


Tumblr Prompts - SanSan Edition

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 42,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: Answering SanSan prompts on Tumblr :) The responding stories will be posted on Tumblr first, then posted here after that. Formerly mixed with various other relationships.





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't know, I'm on Tumblr, and I like to answer short little prompts for people. :D I don't really get a lot, but the ones I do, I'm going to post them on here.  
> [Come talk to me!](http://drgns8er.tumblr.com) :D :D :D
> 
> The prompts on here were formerly under "Tumbler Prompts" with some other relationship pairings, but I decided to separate them.

###  **1\. Table of Contents**

Please note: Any non-romantic pairings are marked with an **&**. Any "Coming Soon" stories are subject to title change.

 **2\. Coffee Shop - Sandor** (Modern AU)  
Sandor has a run in with the new barista

 **3\. I Can't Sleep** (Canon AU, King's Landing)  
Sansa's having trouble sleeping and convinces the Hound to let her play with his hair.

 **4\. Slip of the Tongue** (Canon AU, King's Landing)  
Sandor says something he meant to keep hidden.

 **5\. Men Can Cry - Sandor** (Modern AU)  
Can be considered continuation of ch. 2 "Coffee Shop", Sandor meets the new love of his life.

 **6\. Wheels on the Bus - Sandor** (Modern, High School AU)  
Sandor scoffs at the teacher's "prediction".

 **7\. Wheels on the Bus, 10 Years Later - Sandor** (Modern AU)  
Continuation of 6 "Wheels on the Bus", High school reunions are a great way to reconnect.

 **8\. A Night Out With Friends - The Bros** (Modern AU)  
Contains Beric  & Tormund & Sandor, Tormund/Maege and Beric/Ramsay  
The Bros (Beric, Tormund and Sandor) are having a night out with their SOs to celebrate a SanSan engagement.

 **9\. Shut the Christmas Cheer Up** (Modern AU)  
The house down the street is blaring Christmas music and Sandor's had enough.

 **10\. True Colors** (Canon AU, Winterfell)  
Sansa finds out about Joffrey before they leave Winterfell.

 **11\. I Heard It In The Stables** (Canon AU, King's Landing)  
Sansa hears something no one was suppose to hear.

 **12\. Christmas Wrapping** (Modern AU, songfic)  
A year of missed opportunities culminates in a random meeting.

 **13\. Swim** (Modern AU)  
First crushes are difficult.

 **14\. Love Letter** (Canon AU, King's Landing)  
Sandor reads a letter Sansa wrote.

 **15\. Hitch** (Modern AU)  
Sandor's worried about his job and hires the "date doctor" to help him.

 **16\. Drunk Confessions** (Modern AU)  
Sansa and Sandor get drunk together.

 **17\. Walk of Shame** (Canon AU)  
Continuation of ch. 4, Sandor has to walk back to his room from Sansa's after a night of revelry

 **18\. Baby Daddy** (Modern AU)  
Sansa asks her good friend and neighbor Sandor to be the father of her children.

 **19\. LassKicker** (Modern AU, WWE crossover)  
Wrestler Sansa's not about to let Lana get away with it.

 **20\. Baby Daddy Pt. 2** (Modern AU)  
Sansa has a dilemma.

 **21\. Prom?** (Modern AU)  
A smitten Hound, a dumped Little Bird

 **22\. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do** (Modern AU)  
Sandor has to examine why Sansa broke up with him, and figure out if he wants to fix it

 **23\. The Talk** (Canon AU)  
Sansa and Sandor talk about their experiences.

 **24\. Hot For Teacher** (Modern AU)  
Sandor has a crush on the new teacher, Ms. Stark

 **25\. Little Sister**  (Canon AU)  
Sandor's little sister has plans for him

 **26\. Slasher** (Modern AU)  
Sandor's having a hard time killing the little bird

 **27\. Baby Daddy Pt. 3** (Modern AU)  
Sandor attempts to teach his firstborn how to play T-ball. 


	2. Coffee Shop - Sandor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 47\. “Are you… are you flirting with me?” Character: Sandor  
> Requested by Anon!

Sandor hated waiting in line for coffee. The shop was always packed, being such a tiny place, the other customers always stared, and he could never get out of there fast enough. He also didn’t like that there was a new barista, since Pod was the only one who didn’t wince when Sandor ordered. He had seen her around the shop before, but she hadn’t achieved barista status yet. Unfortunately, it was his turn to buy coffee, and his bros wouldn’t let him use his fucked up face as an excuse to get out of dealing with people, and this place had the best coffee in the entire city.

“Good morning!” the barista said happily, a seemingly genuine smile on her face. “What can I get you?”

“Two black coffees, large, cream and sugar on the side, and one java chip frap, extra shot of expresso, also large.” He loved that sweet, fancy-ass confection, and he’d fight anyone who made fun of him for it.

“Large coffee for a large man. Coming right up!” she said with a wink, startling him.

She hummed as she worked, and soon he had his order, in a neat little to-go box. There was a pastry in the fourth slot. “I didn’t order this.”

She smiled at him again, and again, it seemed genuine. “I know. I think you’ll like it though. Something sweet and manly, like you.”

“Are… Are you flirting with me?” he asked, more than a bit stunned. He did not get flirted with by women, sober women at least. Drunk ones didn’t care what he looked like, they only cared if he had money to buy them more drinks. Tormund got flirted with. Hell, even _Beric_ with his eye patch and cool-as-fuck battle scars got flirted with. Women did not flirt with Sandor Clegane.

“Eat the pastry and then you’ll get your answer,” she said, winking at him again and moving on to the next customer, who also got a smile, but it seemed less genuine than the one he had received. He walked out of the shop in a daze, getting into the backseat Beric’s car. Tormund grabbed their coffees, and then the pastry before Sandor could stop him.

“You got a chick’s number?” he asked, looking at the pastry bag and handing Beric a coffee. “Proud of you, man.” He handed the pastry back to Sandor, who looked down at it. The barista’s name was written clearly, her number below that, and a short message, _Call me._ He couldn’t stop the stupid grin as Beric threw the car into drive and sped off.


	3. I Can't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff  
> nostalgicgirl99  
> SanSan Prompt#1  
> SanSan prompt: Kings Landing fic-Sansa misses playing with others hair,Sandor is guarding her room at night,she asks him a favor,she plays with his pretty long hair

Sansa couldn’t sleep. It was the hour of the bat, and no matter how she tossed and turned, she just could not get comfortable. She had been having nightmares every night since the Riot as well, which didn’t help. She heard the Hound outside her room, yelling at some “buggering knights” as he guarded her door.

 _I miss my family,_ she thought. _I miss my friends. I miss…all the little things. Like being in the sewing room with Jeyne, Septa Mordane, even with Arya and her crooked stitches. I miss laughing with them about the boys when they were in the training yard, and Robb knocked Theon into the mud. That was funny._ She smiled at the memory. Theon had been so ticked off! _I miss when Mother brushed my hair. It was so relaxing. I miss brushing Arya’s hair. It was so fine and wild… Not like Robb’s or Jon’s, so curly. Bran liked it when I brushed his hair, and styled it like Father’s._

She looked towards the door. The Hound was grumbling again, loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough for her to make out the words. Carefully, cautiously, and doubting her own sanity, she slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe, tying it tightly closed. She took a kettle, poured clean water into it from a bucket left in her room, and set it next to the fire. She took a step towards the door. Then another, and another, until she was in front of it. _You can change your mind. He doesn’t know. You can just…turn around…go back to bed…struggle with your sleep on your own._

She bit her lip and quickly unbolted the door before she could change her mind. The Hound turned around, surprised.

“Something wrong, girl?” he rasped.

She nodded. “Would you… would you please come in? I have a favor to ask you.”

He looked her up and down, eyeing her body, but it didn’t bother her as much as she knew it should. He stepped inside her room after glancing down the hallway, bolting the door after him. “What is it? Finally got the harebrained notion to offer yourself in exchange for freedom?”

She gaped at him. “Wha… I… I wouldn’t… I am a loyal…” But he knew the truth, no matter how many times she said it. “No, I have not gotten a _notion_ like that.”

He laughed darkly at her, amused by her ruffled feathers. “What is it then? Surely you didn’t call me in here for _conversation.”_

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling disgruntled and sorely tempted to back out now, before she had asked him what she wanted, but she glanced at his hair. _So long… black as the forest on a moonless night…_

“Please sit,” she said, motioning to a chair in front of her vanity. He raised his good eyebrow at her. “Please?”

He shook his head, but sat down. His armor clanked, and she wondered if she should have asked him to remove it, but he seemed comfortable enough, though he avoided looking in the mirror. She retrieved the kettle with the now hot water and poured it into the available basin. A cup was next to it, but she needed to keep the rest of him protected. She grabbed one of the extra sheets Shae had left for her, folded it once, and then wrapped it around his shoulders and partially around his chest. He was so massive, the sheet wasn’t quite enough. “What in the buggering hells are you doing?” he growled.

“I can’t sleep. And I used to… I suppose you could call it _playing_ but I used to play with my siblings hair, and it relaxed me.”

He stared at her through the mirror. “You want to _play_ with _MY_ hair…”

“More or less. Shae is off somewhere, and I don’t trust any of the other maids. So it’s you or…you.” She felt herself wilting under his gaze, but she kept eye contact, trying to be brave.

He looked away first. “Fine. Do as you will, little bird. I am at your whim.”

She allowed herself a small grin. She started with washing his hair first, which was a challenge considering she only had the basin, a bucket and a cup, but she made it work with minimal spillage. It was so greasy, she wondered when was the last time he had done it. Once it was clean and relatively dry, she began brushing it. _So fine. Reminds me of Arya’s,_ she thought. She hummed as she brushed it, using a comb for the relatively few tangles she found. If she didn’t focus too hard, she could almost imagine she was back at Winterfell, or in an alternate reality, where Joffrey wasn’t her betrothed, and the man in front of her was. _I mean… another man. Not the Hound. He’s… He’s too crass. Vulgar. Drinks too much._ She glanced at him in the mirror. His eyes were closed for the moment, though she had felt him watching her as she had been tending to his hair. He looked… peaceful. Gentle, almost. _He’s protective. Strong. Kind, in his own way. He wouldn’t hurt me… I suppose, IF it should come about, which it won’t, that I was ever betrothed to… Sandor Clegane… it wouldn’t be so bad… Not that it would ever happen, of course. But if it did…I don’t think I would mind so much._

“I’m done,” she told him softly. He opened his eyes, looking at her in their reflections. She ghosted her hand over the back of his head, over the small ponytail he now wore, a Northern style that her father had favored. His scars were on full display, but while still fearsome, she couldn’t say they scared her anymore.

“I look like I’m from the North,” he said flatly.

She laughed. “I suppose you do. You have Northern coloring, and now a Northern hair style. It’s becoming on you.” He glared at her, but she just grinned back, her hand on the back of his neck, playing with the loose strands. “You can take it down if you like, but you’ll have to do it on your own. I refuse.”

“Girl…” he growled, rising from the chair and yanking the damp sheet from his shoulders.

“Yes?” she asked, looking him in the eye. He glared at her, but she didn’t flinch. He growled again and stormed over to the door. He unbolted it violently and continued to storm out. She giggled, but quickly went to the door and bolted it again, in case he decided to come back in and yell at her. She fell asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.


	4. Slip of the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thedropletsparkled said:  
> *waves merrily* I've got a little SanSan prompt for you: Sandor makes a Freudian slip of the tongue and accidentally admits his feelings to Sansa. Of course, he starts to bark right afterwards to make up for the mistake. Too late. Sansa shuts him up with a kiss. Embarrassed and thunderstruck Sandor would be great! :-)

**_Sansa hugged herself, suddenly cold, “Why are you so hateful? I was THANKING you...”_ **

“Thanking me?” he snarled. “I don’t want your _thanks.”_

“What do you want from me then?” she asked, feeling overwhelmed and lost.

“I want you to get your head out of the buggering clouds. To see that this world is the worst place, a hateful place, and _nothing_ can change that. I want you to speak truthfully, as I have spoken to you. I want you to grow a spine and tell those buggering _lions_ to go jump in the buggering _moat_ to see if they can swim.” He scoffed, both of them knowing the folly of his suggestion. “But if you’re going to thank me, at least make it sweet enough for me to remember, should I fall in the battlefield. A send off, as it were.”

She watched him, not understanding. _Sweet enough for him to remember?_ She thought of how her mother would kiss her father before training, telling Sansa that a good lady sends her warrior off with something to hold on to, to motivate them to come back.

“But it’s just training...” she had said.

“Yes, he’s training for war, for battle. So I should train him as well to be ready in my own way. A simple kiss right before or a series of kisses that lead up to the battle? Which do you think is more effective?” Even Arya had agreed the series of kisses would be more effective, though it had grossed her out.

Sansa looked up at him. _So tall...but I think I can reach._ She stood on her tiptoes, her arms reaching up and around his thick neck. She was not strong in the slightest, and if he felt like it, he could squash her against the hard stones of the castle, but the slightest pressure of her hand against the back of his head had him bringing his face down so that her lips could meet his. It was an odd sensation. She had kissed Joffrey (wormy lips), Dontos (grubby, slobbery lips) and Theon (only once, dry lips and awful breath), but this was...it was nice. It was a deeper kiss than she had ever done before, but still chaste. When she broke the kiss, she noticed the rage in his eyes was gone, replaced with confusion, wonder, and then...

He jumped back, the rage back in his eyes. “What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?” he snarled. “Just because I wanted a kiss-- I mean, not that I _wanted... Do not play with my feelings!”_

“Your... feelings?” she asked, dumbfounded. “You... you have feelings for me?”

“Buggering hells...” He turned and walked away a bit, then turned back and walked again, past her. He turned around again. Sansa wasn’t sure if he was pacing or just flustered and couldn’t decide where he was going. She wanted to smile, since it was a bit endearing to see him like this, but she forced it away. He would not appreciate her amusement. _He has feelings towards me... That means... what does that mean? Does he like me? Does he... does he love me?_ It was strange and confusing, but not unpleasant.

He stopped. He didn’t turn towards her, and she could only see his burned side. “When I said... I mean, feelings are... You cannot just kiss a man like that and...” His change in topic was further amusement, but then she noticed his armor clinked as his arm shook, his fist clenched tightly with anger. “A man could take advantage of you. Up here, alone, no one to hear your screams. I could have...”

“You could have what?” she asked softly. 

He breathed out, harsh and ragged. “I am not a good man. I am not a noble ser, or a kind lord.”

“I am aware.” She walked towards him, around him, until she was facing him fully again.

“But you... You make me want to be...” She looked at him. In the low light, she could see his face was red. _He’s embarrassed... I am the King’s betrothed, and he is the King’s trusted guard. He should not have feelings for me, no wonder he’s embarrassed._

She placed her hand on his cheek, and he flinched, but did not say or do anything to deter her. Again, a light pressure on him had him moving to her will, and her lips pressed against his again. _A sweet kiss, for a harsh man._ “Come back,” she whispered. “The battle with Stannis...you have to come back.” She kissed him a third time. _Many kisses, to bring him back. My protector. The one I can trust._ “I’ll give you as much sweetness as I can, just come back,” she swore.

“The king would have your traitor head if he knew,” he said, touching his forehead to hers, their breath mingling together so high above King’s Landing.

“You wouldn’t let him,” she said. A fourth kiss, then a fifth.

“No, little bird. I would not.”


	5. Men Can Cry - Sandor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Since you said you want to challenge yourself...i'm sending you another prompt from that prompt list on your page...#95, Sandor, please!  
> 95\. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I think about it, this could _maybe_ be considered a sequel of sorts to the coffee shop... Maybe? Idk...

“Sandor…” Beric said, placing his hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. Silent tears were rolling down the scarred man’s face.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Sandor said. He looked down at the bundle in his arms. “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

They were sitting on a bench outside of the hospital cafeteria. Sandor had been walking aimlessly for the past forty-five minutes, just marveling at the miracle he was holding. It had finally hit him. _This was his child._ His seven-hour-old daughter was napping peacefully in his arms, smacking her little lips in her sleep. Born at 1:37 in the morning, the newest Clegane was so small, so wrinkly and perfect. 

Tormund was on the other side of him, chuckling. “Perfectly understandable. It’s an emotional moment. I remember when I held my first born for the very first time. Wept like she did. Maybe a little more quietly.”

“She’s beautiful, Sandor,” Beric told him. His friends had come by as soon as they heard, and he was grateful they were there.

“Looks like her mother,” Sandor said fondly, never taking his eyes off the infant. “She should be waking up soon, I think.”

“Let’s go see your wife. I’m sure she’d like some time with the babe as well,” Tormund said as they all got to their feet and returned to the hospital room.


	6. Wheels on the Bus - Sandor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘Be nice to your seat partner. They might just be your future spouse!’ the teacher says, and you turn to me and wink. Are you even real??” AU
> 
> dailyau:
> 
> \- (@paintdripps)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, no one prompted me for this, but it was cute. I couldn't help myself. :3
> 
> High school AU, same grade level

**“Be nice to your seat partner. They might just be your future spouse!“ the teacher said.**

Sandor rolled his eyes. _Right, I’m so sure_ , he thought, glancing down at his bus companion. The girl smiled up at him, having been assigned as his partner since the beginning of the semester in another class, and wasn’t scared of him any longer. She turned when someone tapped her on the shoulder. 

"Wanna sit with me?” Harry, the fucking ass, asked. “My partner is out sick.”

“I’m good,” she chirped. “But thank you for the invitation.”

“You sure? You don’t have to sit next to Sasquatch there.”

Sandor growled, but it was the girl that answered, her tone icy as the arctic, “Thank you, but no. The bus is about to get going, and you wouldn’t want to fall on that pretty face of yours. How else would you get girls? Certainly not by your personality.” Harry frowned at her, but walked to the back of the bus to take his seat. 

“Thought you liked him?” Sandor asked.

She shrugged. “Thought I liked ham sandwiches, too, but now they just taste rotten.”

“Shit, that reminds me. Forgot my lunch.” He could picture it now, just sitting in the refrigerator at home. His sister had made the last of the Thanksgiving turkey into an awesome sandwich just for this field trip. It was his favorite, too.

“I brought extra, if you want to share,” she offered. “It’s turkey sandwiches. My favorite,” she said, winking at him.

Sandor stared at her in awe, wondering if she was real.


	7. Wheels on the Bus, 10 Years Later - Sandor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susanne - I would like to read a sequel to it. For example: after High schooltime, reunion 10 years later .... Please?

Sandor tapped out a rhythm on his knee, nervous about the impending night. He couldn’t believe he had come back to this rundown gym. He couldn’t believe it was still standing, if he was being honest, which he always was. The place had seen better days, but he felt nostalgic being back in it. _Can’t believe it’s been ten years since I graduated from this place. Ten years...time flies way too fucking fast._

He was early. _Way too early,_ he thought as he looked around, the gym mostly empty, with a few teachers putting around and even fewer of his fellow classmates. He was sitting at one of the many tables set out, the tablecloths covering the tables were the school colors, dark green and silver, with matching centerpieces that were completely atrocious, but also very Mrs. Frey.

He could see her across the gym. Motherly Mrs. Frey, a favorite teacher of many students, for her kind heart and open door policy, and supposed skill in decor that no one had the heart to tell her the truth about. Sandor remembered her fondly as the teacher that said you should be kind to your seat mate, you just might end up married to them.

She noticed him staring and hurried on over. “My goodness! Little Sandor Clegane, as I live and breathe.” She hugged him tightly, not even waiting for him to get up. “I was just thinking of you last week. How have you been?”

“Good, good,” he said. “Got a job up North. Good pay, flexible hours, great company to work for. Got a lot of pride in my work.”

“What about family? Children? Did you marry...oh, what was her name? You dated her in your senior year.”

“Ah, yeah, we broke up when she went off to college and I stayed in town to go to trade school. I didn’t want to hold her back.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Worst mistake of my life. Nearly drank myself to death one night, I was so miserable.”

“Oh, dear! How awful!” she exclaimed. “Oh, no... I see her now...”

Sandor turned to take in the sight of his high school sweetheart. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, her makeup light and natural, her dress a dark green with silver trim and matching silver shoes. _She always did have a lot of school spirit,_ he thought with a smile. She was talking with another classmate, one Sandor was not glad to see at all. _Harry fucking Hardyng._ Ten years and he still hated the handsome bastard.

“Must be hard to see her like this,” Mrs. Frey said, patting him on the shoulder. “Harry always did have an eye on her.”

Sandor shrugged and watched the green clad woman. She was just as beautiful as the first day he saw her in freshman year. She patted Harry on the hand he had on her and slipped out of his grasp to come over to Sandor.

“Stay strong, Sandor,” Mrs. Frey said. “Don’t let her see you sweat.”

Sandor chuckled, but thanked her as he received a kiss on the cheek from his wife. “Mrs. Frey! It’s so good to see you,” she said, hugging the older woman, who looked confused.

“I drunk called her the night I nearly died,” Sandor explained. “After a lot of lecturing, water and pissing the alcohol out of my system, I found myself eloping with her. Apparently, she hadn’t wanted to break up either, and was just as miserable as me, but with better ways of coping with it. Oh, and our kids stayed with their grandparents this weekend. Twin boys and a girl.”

Mrs. Frey clapped her hands together in glee and sat with them, demanding details as the rest of their attending class trickled in.


	8. A Night Out With Friends - The Bros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @asbestosmouth can I request a prompt with SanSan and the Bros and their significant others going out for dinner for SanSan’s engagement dinner or something? 
> 
> Hope you like it!

“So how did you two meet again?” Tormund’s wife asked. Maege had a crazy busy schedule and her first time meeting Sansa was the day of the engagement dinner. The six of them were in the restaurant where Sandor had first taken Sansa to on their very first date, a run down restaurant that had some of the best Dornish food in the North. There would be another, much more formal dinner next week, hosted by her parents, which his friends were also invited to, but tonight was just for The Bros, as Sansa liked to refer to them. And Ramsay, the stabby, psycho hobbit.

“Ah, well, that’s… ah…” Sandor said nervously.

Sansa giggled. “It was a year and three months ago. He saved me, like a knight in a song,” she said dreamily.

Sandor snorted. Beric hummed happily, having heard the story more than a dozen times by request despite being there at the time of the initial meet. Ramsay rolled his eyes and bit viciously into the corn chip he had stolen off Beric’s plate. Tormund was just grinning like a madman.

“Go on then, tell us the story,” the ginger bastard encouraged her.

“Well, it all started with a missing umbrella,” Sansa said.

“Oh! He shared one with you?” Maege asked. Tormund shushed her, and got an elbow to the ribs in return.

“Trust me, just let her talk,” Beric assured Maege. They all turned to Sansa, even Sandor. He may act like an ass about it, but he loved hearing her version of how they met just as much as the rest of the group, if not more.

She smiled, “It all started with a missing umbrella. At the time, I lived with my sister and her boyfriend, and Arya couldn’t find her umbrella that day. It had been pouring rain that entire week, so she _borrowed_ mine when she left for work. I had a rain jacket, but it wasn’t enough to cover me and it was a clear vinyl. By the time I got to the subway train, my top was soaked. The fabric was more see-through than I had anticipated, and every man on there was staring at me. And several women, but their reactions were more mixed. One even went so far as to sit across from me and start chatting with me, though his eyes never went above my shoulders.” Sansa shuddered at the memory and Sandor’s arm instinctively went around her. She looked up at him appreciatively.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t Sandor then,” Maege said gently. Sansa nodded.

“And this guy just would not shut up, even though I didn’t respond to him at all,” Sansa continued. “I still had several more stops to sit through before mine came up, and I considered getting off when we arrived at the next stop and just waiting for another one, but it would have been the same. Then, these three huge guys get on, dressed in leather and metal chains. BAMFs, as Arya would say. The crowd parted for them, wary of the very aura they had. They stayed near the doors, and didn’t talk to anyone other than each other. As soon as the train was in motion again, the atmosphere went back to before. Unfortunately, that means the guy across from me started up again, but he was getting more and more creepy. Ignoring him wasn’t working, so I asked if he would please leave me alone. That annoyed him, not enough for him to actually do it, but he started in on me, how I was just a no good slut, dressing like that to provoke men like him, that sort of thing.”

Sandor hadn’t needed much more than that first harsh word to hate the man. She had looked so scared, so fragile. Who _does_ that sort of thing? Douchbags, that’s who.

“You should have punched him,” Maege said. Tormund shushed her and earned another elbow.

Sansa laughed. “That’s what Arya said! But I’ve never been one for physical violence. I was like a deer in headlights, but then this one,” she pointed to Sandor, “He comes up, takes his jacket off and gives it to me, telling me to put it on. He stands in between me and the jerk, _facing_ the jerk and glowering at him until I had the jacket on. Then he sits down next to me, his arm over my shoulders, but his attention focused on the jerk. Then Beric and Tormund come over and sit on either side of the guy, whispering things to him that made him lose the color in his face. They refuse to tell me what they said, to this day, but I imagine that jerk hasn’t bothered women on the subway since then.”

Maege whirled on her husband, but Tormund refused to tell her. Sandor hadn’t thought twice about it. Hells, he hadn’t even thought once! He was handing her his jacket before he even realized it, shielding her from the pervert’s gaze, and then “claiming” her since that was the only language assholes like that douche understood. His friends had followed suit, since protecting people in need was something they all agreed on.

“Tell her what happened next,” Beric encouraged, before Maege could ask him or Ramsay offered up suggestions. The psycho hobbit was stabbing his partner’s appetizer, as if it wasn’t dead enough for his liking, completely ignoring the rest of them.

“Oh, yes! What happened after that? Once you had to get off at your stop?” Maege asked.

“Well, I thanked the man sitting next to me, introduced myself, and tried to give him back his jacket, since it seemed expensive, but he eyed me up and down and told me to keep it since it looked better on me than on him. I then tried to give him my card with my cell number written on it, but he wouldn’t take it. Beric stopped me before I left, and told me that his friend was actually quite shy around women, so he slipped me Sandor’s number and took the card that had previously been refused.”

He honestly hadn’t expected her to give him anything in return, and she had looked _really_ good in his jacket, oversized as it was on her.

They all paused as the servers brought in their food. A quick prayer to their respective gods (or not) thanking them for their food, and Maege prompted Sansa to continue. “I can’t believe I missed all of this!” she exclaimed. “Or that Tormund never told me!”

Tormund shrugged. “Sansa tells it best. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Maege flipped him off, then turned back to Sansa. “Go on, dearie.”

Sansa giggled. “I didn’t call him right away. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to say, since he seemed adamant about me keeping the jacket and not wanting further contact. I was hoping his friend would convince him to call me, but after a week, still nothing. It took me another week to get up the courage to call him.”

Sandor had not stopped thinking about her that entire time, but nothing Beric or Tormund could say had convinced him that he should call her. He had put her card up in his work area, just so he could look up at it and be reminded of her.

“He told me he didn’t want thanks,” Sansa said. Sandor winced. He had actually told her he didn’t need her “fucking fake thanks” and that she should consider herself off the hook. Beric had boxed his ears after that one. “But I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. My friends are a bounty hunter team, extremely good at their job, and they helped me track him down to his place of employment. His name and his phone number were more than enough. Since he specialized in fixing motorcycles, I ended up buying the cheapest, most rundown motorcycle I could find, and brought it to him to fix up.”

He had been floored when she pushed the beat up, hunk of junk into his work space. Never expecting to see her again, since they had only taken the subway because of the rain and the distance they needed to travel, he had been rendered speechless by her appearance at the shop. Brienne Tarth was a bloodhound when it came to finding people, apparently. Jaime Lannister…well, Sandor wasn’t sure what he did exactly, but from what he understood, Brienne worked better with him than without him. Sansa had stopped by everyday, watching him work and talking to him as much as he let her. He had been annoyed at first, thinking that Beric or Tormund had pushed her into this, but as he worked on her bike and got to know her, he slowly started to open up to her as well.

“Why did you persist after him though?” Maege asked. It was a fair question. Of all the women he had met, Sansa was the only one who had actually run after him.

“He was different. It was evident from our first interaction together. And I liked that. He didn’t treat me as a woman or a piece of meat. He treated me as a person, as a fellow human being, one who needed help. No more, no less. It was refreshing. So, even if I wanted to know him better as just a friend, which I did, I had to keep at it. I bothered him constantly, until he finally broke down–”

“I did not _break down,”_ he interrupted.

She patted him on the arm. “You broke down and let me in. We finally had coffee together. Not really dates, per se, but better than me stalking him at work. Once the repairs and restoration were done, I didn’t have any excuses to come see him, so I outright asked him to teach me to ride. The look on his face was priceless.”

It had not been a motorcycle he had envisioned her riding when she asked, and his face turned red at the memory.

“He agreed, but it didn’t take long for me to learn. I needed another excuse, so I asked him to teach me how to do maintenance on my bike. He refused, which was strange. He hadn’t said no to me before, and it was really confusing. Didn’t he want to see me again? I persisted in this, coming round to the shop again and again. His coworkers had stopped questioning my presence long ago, and just found the entire thing amusing. At least, until the shouting match.”

“The shouting match?” Maege asked.

“Yeah. Sandor had had enough, and he started yelling at me that he would never teach me that stuff. I started screaming back at him, telling him he was being unfair and a jerk. He shot back with I should have known he wasn’t a nice guy and that I should get out of there before he really lost it and not come back.” Sansa sighed and looked at Sandor.

It had not been a good time for him. He had finally gotten used to her being around, and if he had taught her to do her own maintenance, what would she need him for? It hadn’t occurred to him that she just wanted to be around him, or that his constant refusal and lack of asking her out could be construed as not being interested. She had asked him to dinner a few times, but he had been an idiot and turned her down, not seeing the invites as the dates they were.

“After that, well… I gave up. One can only take so much rejection before you get it through your head.” Sansa was holding his hand, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand. This was his least favorite part of the story. “This is your part, hon,” she said gently.

“I… I was…not in a good place after our fight,” Sandor told Maege. “I went into a funk, angrier and more harsh than usual. You were in Essos on assignment at the time, so you missed that.”

“Tormund kept me somewhat informed,” Maege said. “I was praying to the old gods for you.”

He gave her a small smile. “It was Tormund who knocked some sense into me. Literally. I had just threatened to punch a customer, and he took me to the back, where we keep all the inventory, and sucker punched me. Told me I was making a mistake if I didn’t go to talk to Sansa. If only so that I didn’t get fired. I knew I wanted her around, but when I went to her place, she was on her way out, dressed to the nines, and that’s about when it hit me. If I didn’t do something now, I would regret it more than I already did.” Sansa was smiling, laughing quietly, taking over the story again.

“He stuttered a lot,” Sansa told Maege. “Asked me if I’d go out with him. I told him I would, on one condition. He had to convince me, right then and there, no holding back. And if he convinced me he really was interested, I would blow off my date and go with him instead.”

“And?” Maege asked.

Sansa smiled and gave a sheepish shrug. “My neighbor _may_ have called the cops on us for indecent exposure, but I did not go out with anyone else that night, or since. All my date nights were reserved for this guy. And _that_ is how we got together.”

It had been a little more than that, but that was his and Sansa’s moment, something they hadn’t shared with anyone. A sweet kiss, a hot and heavy kiss, a push against the wall, his back grinding against the rough texture of it as she claimed him, and he was gone. Lost to this sweet woman, and never been happier.

They finished their meal with lighter topics. Tormund broke out the photos of their girls, Dacey and Alysane, who were staying at “Granddad’s” for the entire week. They ended the night when Ramsay started throwing chips at the kid a table away from them because said kid was sticking his tongue out at Ramsay. Sansa embraced Maege and the two women agreed they really needed to get together again. Ramsay tensed as he was hugged, then stalked off to the car, muttering to himself. Beric kissed the women affectionately on the cheek and gave Tormund and Sandor a hug before leaving.

“It was a good night,” Tormund said, watching his wife continue talking to Sansa. “Noticed you left out some stuff. Like how we brawled for nearly half an hour before you got that sense knocked into you.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t entertaining, and Sansa knows those bits. Good enough for me.” He looked over at the two women. “She really is too good for me.”

“She’s said the same thing about you.”

Sandor snorted. “Probably believes it, too. Well, she’s not perfect. Little touched in the head. Wouldn’t be with me otherwise.”

“I heard that!”

Tormund laughed as Sandor caught a purse aimed at his head. “But that just makes her perfect for me,” he said with a grin.


	9. Shut the Christmas Cheer Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From [this](http://naturesinmyeye.tumblr.com/post/154298824834/this-is-what-is-up-the-street-from-me-please-note) post by Naturesinmyeye, and requested by Mademoiselle_K.
> 
> Modern Day AU Sansan prompt - Someone send Sandor to this door to tell them to shut the hell up. Sansa opens the door. Preferably with elf ears.

_“--Ring-ting-tingling too, Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you--”_

Sandor growled and threw a pillow in the general direction of the offending house, hitting one of the eighty seven Santa decorations his roommate had put up. The entire house looked like the holiday had just thrown up on it. Beric loved Christmas way too much, but at least the damn Santas were _quiet._

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked Sandor, rushing to pick up the fallen Santa.

“That buggering house, with its buggering lights, and the infernal buggering music!!” Sandor yelled, pointing out the window. “It’s six…count them, _SIX_ houses away, and I can still hear it! They’ve been doing this every night since just after Thanksgiving!!!”

“I rather enjoy their decor,” Beric said, slightly put out. “And it’s not like it goes all night--”

“Ten o’clock is no longer _evening,_ Beric! It’s buggering night time! When people, hardworking people like me, are trying to sleep!” Sandor had work at four in the morning, working at the bakery nearby, and usually tried to be asleep no later than six in the evening. “Two buggering weeks they’ve been doing this! Even if I meant to be awake that late, it's still too buggering loud! I’m going to go talk to them.” He strode over to the door, grabbing his jacket and shoving his arms into it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beric said. “You can’t bully the neighbors into taking down their decorations!”

Sandor smiled cruelly and the door shut behind him.

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and wishing he had thrown a sweater on or a hat as well, he angrily walked over to the house on the end of the block. The music was close to deafening as he walked up the sidewalk and banged on the door. He had to bang on it two more times before someone finally answered. “What the hell is wrong with you--” he started, but stopped when he saw her.

The girl was early twenties, with long red hair and the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. She was beautiful all over, but it was her eyes that he noticed the most. She was wearing a green dress, with a matching green hat and… “Are those elf ears?” he asked. She gave him a confused look, which was odd since most people gawked at his scars, shook her head and then pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. The music was mercifully muffled, but still loud.

“Sorry about that, what did you say?” she asked.

“Are those elf ears?” he repeated, pointing at the plastic bits covering the sides of her head.

“Wha-- Oh!” She pulled them off, turning red from embarrassment. The hat came off, too, since it seemed to be a part of it. “Yes, mufflers with some Christmas-ish flair. The music, you know. It’s a bit loud. Needed something to block it out and this is all I had.”

He raised his good eyebrow at her. “Or you could turn the volume down. Like a reasonable person.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, gee, _why didn’t I think of that?”_ she said sarcastically, then sighed. “It’s not me blasting the music. It’s my sister and my brothers. Well, two of my brothers. They think it’s awesome, the rest of us are just annoyed. And my parents are out of town on business, so they can’t do anything about it.”

She looked up at him, and he had the oddest notion that she was sizing him up.

“ _You_ could talk to them. If you want. Maybe if they see that the neighborhood is bothered by it…” she said and sighed again. “Don’t be afraid to yell. Or be scary, like you were on Halloween and yelled at those punks that were smashing the pumpkins.”

He frowned. “You know about that?”

She nodded. “You saved my pumpkin. I was watching from the window, about to call the cops, when you showed up.” She smiled up at him. “I’m Sansa, by the way. You’re Sandor, right?”

He nodded and shook the hand she suddenly offered up. "You know me?" He sure as hell didn't know her, but he also tended to let Beric be the one who dealt with neighbors.

“Yeah, I've seen you around. You do some fine lawn work," she said, coloring slightly. He raised both brows, remembering how shirtless he had been during the summer and the fall while working in the yard, and wondered how long she had been watching him. "Come on, I’ll lead you to my siblings. Arya’s the one who’s spearheading this whole ‘louder is better’ thing, but Robb and Rickon are the ones that agree with her. If you can get her to back down, they’ll fold like a house of cards.”

**********

“So...how’d it go?” Beric asked when he returned an hour later.

“Can’t hear the music anymore, can you?”

“Please tell me you didn’t kill anyone.” Beric was only half joking.

“No one died,” Sandor assured him. “I explained the facts to them. Also threatened to call the cops on them for disturbing the peace. And I just asked them to turn it down to half, not completely remove everything.”

“Oh, well, that’s a reasonable request.”

“Also...may have been asked out by the pretty redhead who answered the door,” Sandor said in a rush as he ran up the stairs to escape Beric’s interrogation. “Night!”


	10. True Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sansanfan97 asked:  
> SanSan prompt: Sansa experiences Joffrey's true colors at Winterfell, Sandor protects her. Ned refuses to betrothe her to Joffrey, Sansa falls for Sandor, he leaves but comes back a few years later & Ned agrees to their marriage.

Joffrey slapped her, unable to stop himself when she had had the nerve to tell him what to do.

“Why?!” Sansa asked hysterically, “Why would you do that?!” She held her bright red cheek, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’re a prince! You’re supposed to be beautiful and kind and wonderful!”

Joffrey scoffed and moved to slap her again, but his wrist was caught in a large hand. “That’s enough, my lord. Your father and mother wish to have some words with you,” the prince’s shield rasped. Joffrey looked around to see his parents standing with their hosts, Lord and Lady Stark. All four were looking at him in horror. He wrenched his arm away from the scarred man, and walked towards them with his head held high.

Sansa stumbled, but was caught by the same strong hand. He lead her to a nearby crate and sat her down on it. “Thank you, ser. I did not think that he would… I shouldn’t have said…” Her tears started in earnest now. “He’s not at all like I imagined a prince would be like.”

“And what did you expect, girl?” the man snorted. “For him to be kind and good, for him to call you his lady love and cater to your fanciful whims?”

She winced. She _had_ sort of expected that. “In the songs…”

“Songs are dressed up versions of ugly truths. Get it through your head, girl,” he said harshly as he dipped a handkerchief into a nearby barrel of water and held the cool cloth to her burning cheek. “The world is a cruel place. Save yourself some pain and see the truth beneath the lies.”

She looked up at him, horrified by his scars, but determined to not be put off by them. _A true lady would not see them, and he did save me after all._ His eyes were so grey… They reminded her a little of her father’s sword, Ice. They also were expressionless. Not dead, just… no emotion whatsoever. It saddened her for some reason. “Does it look bad? My cheek, I mean?” she managed to ask.

“Bit swollen,” he said, pressing his finger to it lightly, causing her to grimace. “You should go see your maester. Though…” He looked around. “Stay right there.” He left her on the crate, and walked over to some untrodden snow. Scooping up a large handful, he wrapped the snow in the handkerchief and bundled it up tight. He walked back to her and said, “Here, keep this on your cheek. It’ll melt, so be careful to not get it on that pretty dress of yours and go see the maester. You’ll be alright.”

He pressed it to her cheek, and she yelped a little. “S-s-s-oooo c-c-cold!”

His eyes went wide and he barked a laugh. Not a cruel one, like she had seen from him earlier. This one was full of genuine amusement. It completely changed his whole face. The scars were still there, of course, but it became less harsh, and there was a light in his eyes that warmed her soul. “And here I thought all Starks had ice in their veins.”

Her jaw dropped in surprise, but she was soon giggling along with his laughter. “I suppose we might be used to the cold more than people from the South,” she said, “but cold is still cold!”

“You’re like those little birds from the Summer Isles,” he said, still grinning in amusement. “Getting all fussy from a bit of cold.”

“Well, better a little bird in the North, than a direwolf in Dorne,” she said haughtily, though with a slight smile to show that she was joking. He laughed a little more, his grey eyes twinkling merrily. She felt her heart skip a beat.

“Hound!” a boy said, running up to them. “Her grace wishes to see you immediately.”

He waved the boy off. “Expect she’ll be asking me what happened,” he said, his good mood gone.

“I’m going to be punished for my insolence with the prince, aren’t I?” she asked, her own mood soured as well.

“Knowing Joffrey, he probably overreacted to something you said. What did you tell him anyway?”

“Just that he should go see the godswood while he was here, that it is so much grander than the one in King’s Landing, according to my father.” She looked down as she spoke. “He didn’t like that. Not one bit.”

“Your father will make sure that you are protected,” he said. “Go to the maester, little bird.” He left her sitting there, and she realized she had forgotten to ask him his name.

**********

It turned out that while they had seen Joffrey about to strike her, neither her nor his parents has seen him hit her the first time. Joffrey made some excuse that his mother jumped on and the king had reluctantly accepted, if only so that he wouldn’t have to bother with the boy. Her father was _furious,_ and told the king that he would have to _respectfully decline_ the betrothal offer. Sansa was fine with that. Her father also told the king that he would need to find another Hand somewhere else.

King Robert extended his stay, trying to get her father to change his mind. Lord Tyrion went North to the Wall, when Uncle Benjen and Jon left, though he was only going for a visit, and not to join. Still the king stayed. The queen wanted to leave, but Sansa was glad they were still there. Not for Joffrey, though she often found herself in his presence. She was glad because it meant _he_ was staying, the man who helped her, the man whose name she now knew to be Sandor Clegane. She had to suffer Joffrey’s awfulness, but it was worth it to be near this man. He was often surly and scary, but around her, to her, he was a bit kinder. Everyone thought she was trying to win the prince’s good graces, but Joffrey was not in her sights. She talked to Clegane as often as she dared, and found him to be an interesting person. A few months passed. Lord Tyrion returned from the Wall, and her father had still not given in to King Robert.

Out of spite, she believed, the king offered the role of Hand to Lord Tyrion. Her father simply stared at King Robert, then offered congratulations to Lord Tyrion. Sansa was distressed, as it would mean that the king was finally leaving, and would be taking Sandor Clegane along with him.

The night before they departed Winterfell, she waited until she found him alone.

“Sa-Sandor…” she said, nervous about what she was about to tell him.

“Little bird,” he responded. He had been patrolling Winterfell. The king’s soldiers had grown bored and had started helping with the castle guard. She had often accompanied him on his patrols, as long as they were during the day. The sun had fallen below the horizon nearly an hour ago, and it would be unseemly if someone caught them together like this. Not that he cared, nor did she, for that matter.

“You are leaving tomorrow.”

“That I am. Back to King’s Landing,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Come to say goodbye to an old dog?”

“You’re not old,” she whispered. “But, yes, I came to wish you well on your journey. I hope it is not a _goodbye._ I’ve rather enjoyed talking to you, being around you.”

“You’d be the first,” he said, looking off in the distance. He seemed morose, and it gave her a bit of hope that he might be sad about leaving her as she was.

“I hope to see you again...someday. I made this for you.” She held up a green tunic, with a snarling dog embroidered on the front. He had a red one, but it was old and worn. She had made a dress from the same green material just before the king and his party arrived, and there had been plenty of extra fabric for this piece. “I wanted you to remember me, as I will always remember you, should you not return to Winterfell.”

He took the folded tunic from her, his thumb caressing the embroidery. “Why did you do that?”

“I… I want you to return,” she said, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. “I hope that you return… and maybe…” She didn’t finish, it would be too much to ask. _Ask my father for my hand… I am still young, I know, but I won’t always be._

“I doubt the king will want to ever come back to Winterfell, little bird,” he said, his voice rougher than normal.

“Do you need the king’s presence to return? I will gladly welcome you without him, if that is what you are worried about.” She looked up at him desperately. “Please, come back someday. In the meantime, I can write to you.”

“You assume I know my letters,” he snorted. She was about to apologize, but he continued. “I don’t mind writing to you, but to what end?”

“I… I am fond of you.” She didn’t want to say more. “I wish to continue to know you. Is that acceptable?”

He studied her for a few moments. “Alright, little bird. I will respond to any and all letters you send me. Just don’t cry,” he said with a chuckle, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even known was there. “Buggering hells, you’re a needy little thing.”

“Is that… I can be less so…” she said, playing with the edge of her sleeves, looking down at his armored boots.

“Don’t worry about it. Worse things than having a pretty girl being needy at you,” he said, completely nonchalant. “Off to bed with you now.”

She let him lead her back to her room, surprising him with a kiss on the cheek before retiring for the night.

**********

On her seventeenth nameday, the call came out that a party was approaching Winterfell, the banners unknown. Curious, she headed up to the wallwalk and waited until she could see it. A snarling black dog on a green field. Her father’s men must have thought her crazy as she ordered the guard to lower their weapons and allow them entrance to the castle, but she didn’t care.

She was waiting in the courtyard, standing with her father, as he and his men approached. “Lord Clegane,” her father said stiffly, greeting their guest. News of Sandor Clegane’s rise in society had shocked many across the kingdoms, but Sansa had held hope. The higher he climbed, the closer he became to her.

“Lord Stark. Been a long time,” he responded, dismounting from his great black horse. _Stranger,_ she thought. He had written her of his new horse, paid for with the winnings he had gotten at the Tourney of the Hand in Lord Tyrion’s honor a few months after the king’s return to the capital.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” her father asked. Her mother and siblings were somewhere around the castle, not feeling the need to show up to such a minor guest. Sansa probably would be with them if it had been anyone else but him.

“Come to talk to you about something, if we may speak in private.” He hadn’t looked at her at all, but she knew he couldn’t. _Not yet. Soon, please let it be soon._

Her father nodded, and walked away, to his solar, she assumed. Lord Clegane glanced at her. She gave him a small smile, hopeful of his purpose here. He returned it, gave her a curt nod, and followed her father.

Hours later, she was called to the solar. “Sansa,” her father said. Lord Clegane was leaning against the wall, seemingly uninterested in the goings on. “Come, sit with me.”

She went to her father’s side, taking the seat next to his desk. “Yes, Father?”

“Lord Clegane has made an offer.” She held her breath, praying it was the one she had dared not voice in her letters to him. _Please! Let him have been encouraged by my words!_ “He wishes to take you as his wife. I have told him that he is indeed worthy of you in station, but…” His voice fell to a whisper. “If you do not wish to wed him, I will not force you.”

She forced herself to remain calm, to be the lady she had been raised to be. “I am humbly accepting of Lord Clegane’s offer, Father. Honored, even, that he should desire me as his wife.”

Her father raised his brow. “As you wish, daughter. Then I approve of this betrothal. Let us talk more tomorrow. Your mother will scold us for being late to evening meal.”

She walked with Sandor, holding onto his arm, trying to keep her excitement contained. After supper, he walked with her again, but as soon as no one was around, pulled her into an alcove. “Honored, are you?” he rasped.

“I am, my lord. I had hoped… as soon as I saw your banner, I hoped that that was your reason for coming.” She leaned up, and kissed him. “I wanted to tell you, all these years… but I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” he asked softly, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Afraid you might not feel the same as I did, as I still do.”

“And what is it that you feel, little bird?”

“I… I love you,” she whispered. “I have, since the king brought you to Winterfell, brought you to me.”

“Silly little bird,” he said. “As if anyone couldn’t love you. I’m the lucky one, to have your affection. Worked so hard, just to be able to ask for your hand. You could have been queen… Now you are to be a dog lord’s wife...”

She smiled at him. “No. Do not think like that. As long as you are my husband, I will always feel like a queen. I am _your_ queen.”

He chuckled. “That you are, little bird. That you are.”


	11. I Heard It In The Stables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nostalgicgirl99 - SanSan Prompt#12: King Landing- Sansa is walking along the grounds of the Red Keep, when she gets caught out in the rain. She finds the nearest shelter which is the stables, she quietly enters when she spots Sandor with Stranger. He talks to his horse very softly and she listens. She is stunned when she hears her name and listens more intently, Sandor talks about how beautiful she is, how she will never even look at him like she does to all the handsome knights….

“Sansa Stark is possibly the kindest person I’ve ever met,” she heard him whisper to his monster of a horse. “A true beauty, not just outside, inside as well. I thought she was like a younger version of Cersei, at first, but she’s not. She’s nothing like Cersei, and that’s good. She could be a Queen beloved by the people, if she makes it that far. If she survives Joffrey.”

_What? Is he... Is he really talking about me?_ Sansa was around the corner from the stall the Hound and his destrier currently occupied. The hard rain outside had driven her to the nearest shelter, the stables, where she had heard the soft murmurings of someone else. She had to strain to hear better, even moved a little closer, and was surprised to realize it was the king’s shield and the newest member of the Kingsguard, Sandor Clegane. And he was talking about _her._

“A beauty like her deserves a man of her equal, someone as kind and beautiful as her. Certainly not Joffrey, the buggering fool, though the boy is comely. He’ll destroy her, if not in spirit, then in body. He doesn’t know what to do with a rare gem like her.” He fell silent, and Sansa thought he was done. He made little noises at his horse, not quite cooing, but some sort of masculine equivalent.

_I don’t understand. I thought he disliked me. I thought he hated me. He has had nothing but disdain for me since we first exchanged words..._

“Almost makes me wish I was like them...like the handsome knights she so loves,” she heard. Her head nearly twisted off, she whipped it around so fast. 

_What?! But he hates knights! He said so! He spits on them and their vows! They are nothing like the ones in the songs--_

“How pathetic is that?” he asked his horse. “Wishing I was something I hate, just so that maybe, _maybe,_ she’d look at me the same way she looks at the Knight of Flowers. Absolutely pathetic.”

_He... He wants me to look at him... like I look at..._ Her cheeks went red as she remembered how she had looked at Ser Loras. The last time she had seen him was at the Tournament of the Hand. The admiration she had had for him...she had turned to the Hound the next day. _But it still wasn’t the same, was it? And now?_ She had often pictured herself in love with Joffrey, and briefly of Ser Loras, the way she had seen her parents in love. Her heartbeat sped up as she pictured herself as the lady love of the Hound. _No... He is of a lower station...we could never be... I mean, it’s impossible..._

The rain was letting up and she made her way as quietly as possible out of the stable. She threw a glance back, but the Hound hadn’t noticed her at all. As she walked back to her room, she thought, _I can be a bit kinder to him. It’s not as if I am promising him anything. I can look at him more. I should look at him more, as he was the one who saved me in the riot. He wouldn’t accept my thanks, but this is something he would accept, something he wants. And with the battle coming up...he is the fiercest warrior I’ve ever seen, yet even he may not come back. I will look at him, and I will gift him a favor. It is the right thing to do._

**********

Sansa ran into her room and bolted the door shut. The green flames of the battle tinged the walls in a sickly shade, and she wished the Lady was by her side as she stood looking out her window.

A hand covered her mouth. “Don’t scream, little bird...” a voice rasped in her ear.

She nodded and he let go, allowing her to turn around to look at him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“The dwarf set the battlefield on fire... and I... I...” He collapsed onto the ground, leaning back against the side of her bed. “It was everywhere... damn that dwarf... I tried... I tried so hard... For you, I killed so many... To protect you... But... the fire...” He was sobbing and her heart ached for him. She saw a wineskin that had been tossed on her bed, but he had the barest trace of wine scent on him. _He couldn’t drink away the fear? Or he wasn’t ready to get drunk yet..._ _My brave Hound..._

She fell to her knees between his legs, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Shhhh, Sandor. It’s alright. The fire cannot hurt you in here.” She stroked his hair, holding his head to her breast, and let him cry in her arms. “You were brave, Sandor, so very brave, to face the flames as you did.”

They stayed like that, and though her knees hurt, she did not let go of him until his breath had calmed and he was no longer shaking. He pulled away, unable to look at her. “No one can know I--”

“They won’t,” she swore. “Not from me. I’ll rip out my own tongue before I betray your confidence.”

He stared at her, looking for the lie, she supposed, but he would not find any.

“You can stay here, if you like. Until you are ready to return to the battlefield, or...”

“Dangerous words, girl,” he said darkly, though his bark was only half its usual strength. “I could take that song from you.”

“Name it, and I will sing for you, providing I know it.” He stared at her again, so she took it upon herself to begin. Florian and Jonquil was what he had first asked for, she thought she remembered, but it wasn’t the right song for such a time. Instead, she sang an old Northern song, _The Night That Ended,_ about the Battle for the Dawn between the Night’s Watch and the Others. His eyes were closed as she sang, but once she was done, he looked at her with something akin to wonderment. “Whether you stay or you go, I will be here,” she whispered. “I will watch for you. I will look for you.”

He was still, and she wondered if she had confused him greatly. After several moments, his hands were on her waist, but she found herself being lifted and set on the bed as he rose from his spot on the floor. Ripping the white cloak from his shoulders, he let it fall. “I’ll see you after the battle,” he said roughly, moving towards the door.

“Your cloak...”

“Don’t need it. Just a burden, and I’ll likely lose it anyway for abandoning the King. I’ve got all the cloth I need on me.” He held up the embroidered handkerchief she had given him just the day before. Since hearing him in the stable the previous month, she had worked hard to decorate the small piece of cloth he had once given her. To make sure he would accept it, she gave him her attention, to look at him as she had once looked upon Ser Loras and Joffrey as he had wished for her to. It had not been as hard as she had thought it would be. Adoration for him came quite easily. He had not said anything when he accepted it, and she hadn’t been sure he would keep it on him. “Bolt this door after me, little bird.”

She rushed to him as he unbolted the door. “You could stay here. I know you will not dishonor me...”

He smiled wryly. “No, I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t be myself if I did not do my damnedest to kill any that would get to you, to this kingdom that will one day be yours.” He leaned down, hesitant, then kissed her softly on her lips. “I will stand between you and your enemies, my queen,” he promised, then took his leave. 

Sansa stood there, rooted to the spot, her face flush from his kiss. When she finally remembered herself, she quickly bolted the door again. _Let him return victorious,_ she prayed. _He is a true knight, though he’s said no vows. Protect him, as he has protected me._

**********

When the dust of the battle settled, and the traitors were separated from the allies, duly punished and rewarded as King Joffrey saw fit, Sansa was set aside for Margaery Tyrell, and the Hound was dismissed from the Kingsguard. He became her guard, trusted to keep her from running away, even if he was no longer trusted to guard the king. It made it all the easier to steal her away one morning, after she had been seen by the court, and long before anyone would notice her missing. 

The sun was warm on her skin as they left King’s Landing far behind, her voice filling the air with song, his hand a solid reminder on her waist that she would be alright. _They_ would be alright.


	12. Christmas Wrapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sansanfan97 asks - SanSan prompt: A one shot based on the lyrics to the song Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses.  
> Modern AU

Sansa stood in front of the sad little tree and stared at the three ornaments that decorated it. The only reason the tree had lights was because they came _with_ the tree. Very slow, out of sync, blinking lights. She sighed and flung herself onto the worn, yet very comfy couch. “Bah _hum_ bug!” she declared. Lady, her miniature poodle, cocked her head in confusion. “Ok, _fine,_ I love this holiday and this time of year, but this has quite possibly been the worst year for me, and definitely the year of missed connections. I think I’ll just miss out on it this year...” 

She looked over at the three ornaments on her tree. One was a small poodle figurine she had gotten the same year she met Lady, with the year carved into the base. The second was a framed photo of her family. The third... the third wasn’t an ornament at all, not really. It was keychain, a freight ship, with the logo for Seaworth Shipping engraved on one side. “All that missed time with him...” she whispered.

It had been nearly a year ago when she met the foul mouthed, foul tempered man with the facial scars known as Sandor Clegane. She had been home for the holidays, helping out around Winterfell Resort and Lodge, specifically helping her brother Robb, the sales manager. Mr. Clegane was there on behalf of his boss, Davos Seaworth, to broker a deal between Winterfell and Seaworth Shipping. Mr. Seaworth would have come himself, but he had caught a nasty cold just before he was due to leave and had sent his right hand man in his stead. Unfortunately, Mr. Clegane had the people skills of a rusty nail, and the negotiation wasn’t going very well. Sansa was just there to take notes for her brother, but during a break when Robb had stepped out of the room, she had seen Mr. Clegane nearly break down from frustration.

When Robb returned, she took pity on the poor, socially inept man and took a place at his side, acting as Mr. Clegane’s negotiation partner and helping him hammer out a deal that benefited both Winterfell and Seaworth Shipping. Robb had been furious with her, but it was better deal than they could have made without her, so her father had told him to calm down and accept the outcome.

Mr. Clegane on the other hand... She smiled at the memory. Mr. Clegane had been grateful, and had asked her out to dinner. _Just as a thank you_ , he had said, but it had felt very date-like to her, and she had found herself enjoying his company immensely. When he was getting ready to leave, he had given her his business card, his cell number written on the back, and awkwardly asked her to call him if she was ever on the island of Dragonstone, where Seaworth Shipping’s main office was located. Sansa actually lived in the suburb of Duskendale, an hour away on the express ferry, and commuted by train to her job in Maidenpool. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek, promising to call him, but warning him that her job kept her pretty busy. He just shrugged and muttered that any time with her was worth the wait.

He was on her mind a lot, but she wasn’t able to call him until spring, when she found out she was being sent to Dragonstone on assignment, to oversee a photo shoot for her place of employment, Maiden’s Edge Magazine. She had been so excited when she found out, she had called him immediately to let him know, agreeing to meet for lunch or dinner...or both. And she had called him as soon as the ferry landed on the island and she had her schedule for the three days she would be there. She had been crushed to find out _none_ of her free time coincided with his, and had left Dragonstone with a heavy heart and a determination to not miss out on the next time. They also started emailing, getting to know each other a little better.

It wasn’t until the summer that they both had a free weekend, and he invited her out to the beach, to spend the weekend with him on his boat. He even invited Lady along, saying he had a special doggy life vest just for her. She had shrieked with excitement in her apartment, startling Lady, but had calmly replied that she was looking forward to seeing him. She was all geared up to go when a coworker asked if she was going to tan a bit first, so as not to look like she had been a cave for a year. So she took an extra day off before she was to go meet him in order to sunbathe her paleness away. Big mistake. _Huge_ mistake. She ended up suffering from a bad sunburn and had to call him, fighting back tears the entire time, to tell him she couldn’t make it. He had sounded so sad, that she ended up confessing her colossal screw up _and_ sent him a photo as proof, showing him how red she was, and how sad both she and Lady were. He sent her back a photo of an equally sad, lonely looking dog, sitting on a boat bench, with the caption, “Stranger is sorry he won’t be meeting you.”

They continued to email, but it wasn’t until the fall, on Halloween, when he called to invite her to a costume party his friend was hosting at his bar. She had the time available, and had rushed out of work early to get to the party shop and get a costume. The only one left in her size was a sexy wolf costume, which was a bit weird, but she knew she couldn’t be picky. She showed up at the time he had told her and sat at the bar, waiting patiently for him. After an hour, she got a text from him, apologizing for being late, that he was having some car trouble and would be there as soon as he could. Another hour and a second text, swearing he’d be there, the mechanic was taking his sweet ass time to look over the car. She could only imagine the amount of swearing he must be doing. Another hour and third text, begging her to not leave, he’d hitchhike over there if he had to. She wondered if it was because she sent him a photo of her looking sad and lonely at the bar. Or maybe it was the sexy costume? She smiled and texted him back, saying she was willing to wait a bit longer. The bartender, Sandor’s friend, gave her the “I’m sorry my friend has a shit car” discount which ended up meaning free drinks, and told her Sandor was worth the wait. She didn’t disagree. Around two in the morning, when last call was going out, Sandor called her, sounding completely defeated and told her he would understand if she wanted to go out with someone else. She told him she wasn’t interested in any other man, and would be going home alone. She also told him she was looking forward to the next time they could try to get together. He sounded so relieved when he answered that he was looking forward to it as well.

Except...there hadn’t been a next time, not since then, and now here she was, alone on Christmas Eve, talking to her dog, during one of the busiest times for the shipping industry, and even if he _was_ free, the ferries to and from Dragonstone were not in service at this hour. It had bummed her out, big time, and all she wanted was to just sit back and relax with Lady, maybe watch a Christmas movie or seven. She had ended up turning down every invitation she had received for that night, but it was ok. She felt better having stayed home. “If there’s a Santa, I hope he brings me more time this next year, just so I can make that connection I’ve wanted...” she said with a sigh.

The oven beeped, bringing her back to the task at hand. “Time to cook the turkey!” she told Lady, who wagged her puffy little tail excitedly. Lady _loved_ turkey. If she could dive headfirst into a twenty pound turkey and eat it from the inside out with the risk of choking on a bone, she would. 

Sansa slid the tiny turkey into the oven, set the timer, and checked the rest of her sad little Christmas dinner. “Mashed potatoes, check. Broccoli casserole, yum and check! Sliced, cheesy potatoes, check. Stuffing, check. Cranberries...cranberries...” She looked around. Nothing. She checked the refrigerator, then cautiously checked the freezer. She eyed the pantry suspiciously, then checked it. She gave a small sigh of relief, though all of this meant only one thing. “Ok, Lady, you’re in charge. I’ll be back as soon as I can, with cranberries!” Lady barked and jumped around happily as Sansa bundled up.

The trip to the only twenty-four hour grocery store was quiet, as most of Duskendale was either out partying or staying in. The grocery store was pretty much dead as well, with only one cashier manning the registers. She found the cranberries she wanted, and quickly rushed to pay for them, grabbing some holiday doggie treats she spotted along the way. She rounded the huge display to check out, when she ran smack dab into a solid wall.

“Sorry about that,” she heard a painfully familiar voice say, and she looked up to see the object of her year long chase right in front of her! “Sansa??”

“Sandor...” she whispered, and he helped her up. “What are you...” She looked down at the package in his hands. “Cranberries? You, too?”

He laughed when he saw what she was holding. “Yeah, me too. You didn’t go out?”

“Didn’t feel like it, this year... it’s been so... so...”

“Crazy?” he supplied. “Yeah, same here. It’s, like, give me a fucking break already, you know?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “I know. What are you doing here? In Duskendale?”

“Live here. Commute to Dragonstone on the ferry. You?”

She stared at him. “I live here, I commute to Maidenpool on the train.”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously? Where in Duskendale?” he asked.

“Over in Seven Swords Apartments...” she whispered. “You?”

“Seven Swords...that’s... that’s right next door...I live on Tarly Ave and Fifth... Not even half a mile away... Why didn’t you mention it?” 

“Why didn’t you??” she asked.

He started laughing. She could only stare, but then, a small giggle, and a louder one, and soon they were both laughing together, wiping the tears from their eyes.

“Little bird,” he said, his pet name for her. “Would you like to have dinner with me and Stranger? You can bring Lady.”

She thought about the turkey currently sitting in her oven. “I would love to, but I will have to go home first, and take care of a few things before I can come over, unless you want to come to my place? I do have a turkey in the oven, cooking as we speak.”

“I am partial to poultry,” he said with a smile. “If we can squeeze in the ham I bought, then that would be great.”

“Great,” she said dreamily. The cashier coughed loudly to get their attention. Sandor flipped the kid off with a grin and handed over his payment.

“Don’t worry about the cranberries,” he told her as he left the store. “I’ll bring them with me. See you in a few, little bird.”

“Ok...” she said, handing her package of cranberries over to the cashier, who rolled her eyes, and walked on air back to her car. “So glad I’m not missing out on Christmas this year.”


	13. Swim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sansanfan97 said:  
> Sandor is lifeguarding at a community pool while in college, the pool offers swim lessons taught by Sandor, Sansa (11ish) has a crush on him, pretends she can't swim and signs up for the lessons. He realizes it right away & is kind to her. Years later they meet again and instant romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Sansa bit her lip as she stood in front of the desk. The woman finished looking over her paperwork to sign up for swimming classes, her payment sitting in a little white envelope. “Looks like everything in order. You’re in fifth grade and you’ve never had swimming lessons before?”

“No, ma’am,” Sansa said honestly. Her father liked to joke that his children were truly half fish, they had all taken to swimming with little to no lessons. She did have some trouble with diving, but this level of class would be child’s play. Not that she was going to tell Miss Brienne that.

“Ok, well, the first class is tomorrow, at ten A.M. Make sure you bring a towel, a water bottle, and goggles. Your instructor...” Miss Brienne hesitated. “If you find that you are not comfortable with your instructor, you’re more than welcome to switch classes, but I do hope you give him a chance. He really is a very good, if a bit difficult, but Mr. Clegane is our best instructor, I promise you.”

“Ok,” she said. “I hope to learn a lot from him.” Inside, she was squealing with excitement.

**********

Sansa was ten minutes early. Her things were packed away in her assigned locker, and she was wearing her cutest swimsuit, a green one piece with black racer lines down the side, her hair was pulled back into a high braid, and her matching green and black goggles were resting on top of her head. She felt awesome. 

Sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet dangling into the water, she wondered how many other kids would be in her class. She hoped it wouldn’t be _too_ many. She wanted attention from Mr. Clegane, but she also didn’t want to be obvious about her swimming experience. She felt bad about the charade, but how else was she supposed to be around him? He was so cool, and awesome and...and... he was nine years older than her. He would _never_ want to hang out with her if she wasn’t taking this class! She wasn’t a baby, but she wasn’t a woman in his eyes either, even if she was more mature than most teenagers. Her mother said so. She was just...Sansa. A little girl. And she was mostly ok with that, but when she found out he taught the morning swim class at the community pool, she had jumped at the chance. Carefully saving up her allowance, she paid fifty dollars for eight thirty-minute classes. 

The pool was closed to the general public in the morning, so it was a novel feeling to be there when so few people were. Miss Brienne was the lifeguard today, Mr. Jaime was manning the front desk, and Mr. Clegane...

“Thought all Tullys swam on instinct,” she heard behind her. She turned and gave him a shy smile, shrugging so that she wouldn’t have to answer. “Well, you’ve got three other people to learn with. Should be here soon.” He sat down next to her for a moment, his yellow and black swim trunks setting off the nice tan of his skin, and then slid into the water, dunking his head beneath the surface. She tried really hard not to gawk, but he was just so... so...

“Cool...” she whispered.

“You say something, little bird?” he asked, shaking his head, the water spraying out everywhere. She shrieked from the sudden cold as some hit her skin. He laughed. “Gonna have to get used to it if you want to learn to swim, girl.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to accidentally drown just because you were too cold to move,” a voice behind her said. She turned and frowned at her classmate. Joffrey Baratheon was, by far, the most obnoxious boy she had ever met. He used to pull her pigtails when they were younger, and her teacher told her that that just meant he liked her, but why would you want to _hurt_ someone you liked? Mr. Clegane never hurt her and he had told her that he found her tolerable, which she understood to mean he liked her, but not like he _like_ liked her... She was starting to feel flustered.

Beside him was Margaery, the new girl who transferred to their school in the last month before the semester ended, and her brother Loras, who was a year older than them, but he and Margaery were best friends, almost like twins. They greeted her cheerfully.

“Alright, alright, put your stuff away and get back here. We’re going to go over some basics, see how much you know already, and how much I need to teach you,” Mr. Clegane shooed them away. “Slide on into the water. It’s only four feet tall here, you’ll be fine.”

Sansa gulped nervously, not because she was afraid of drowning, but because she wondered if she could really pretend to not know what she was doing. He seemed to think it was the first one, and held his hand out to her. She had been fortunate in that he hadn't seen her swim much before, since she was usually in the kiddie pool with Rickon, while her other siblings went into the big pool. 

“I got you, little bird.” She grasped his hand and then she was in the water. “Go ahead. Put your goggles on and dunk your head. Stay under as long as you can. I want you to do your best, you got it?"

She nodded, pulled her lucky goggles down over her eyes, took a few quick short breaths before a really long one and sank into the water. She nearly resurfaced immediately, so startled was she by the sight of his long, powerful legs, his yellow and black swim trunks floating in the water so that she could see his normally hidden thighs. _Those are...nice thighs,_ she thought inanely. _Is it normal to be attracted to a man's thighs?_

Suddenly, she was being pulled up out of the water, sputtering in surprise. "Breathe, Sansa, breathe!" she heard. She took big gulps of air, trying to get her heart rate under control. "Are you alright?" he was asking her, his face dangerously close to hers.

"Yes!" she squeaked.

"You sure? You were underwater longer than I expected..."

"Oh...I was? Um..."

"Look at the teacher's pet!" Joffrey laughed. Mr. Clegane growled at him, and barked at them to get into the water, class was starting.

**********

 _He knows..._ she thought. _He knows!_ It was the fourth out of eight classes, and though she had been careful, she had slipped up too many times for him to _not_ know. He asked to speak to her after class,  which Joffrey had mocked her for and Loras had pushed him in the pool for that, and Mr. Clegane was going to kick her out of the class, she just knew it!

She was sitting on the edge of the pool, kicking her legs in the water, watching as the pool opened to the general public now that the class was over for the day. He sat down next to her. "You belong in a higher class, you know," he said. "Not with these idiots."

"I don't want to be in a higher class..." she said weakly.

"Why the buggering hells not?"

"Because..."

He waited for her to continue, but she wasn't about to tell him the real reason. "Well, you knew you were signing up for the Beginner's class, right?" She nodded. "But it's your parents' money..."

"No! It's mine. My allowance money. I earn it. Doing chores and stuff..." She looked up at him desperately. _Please don't kick me out of the class!!_

He ruffled her hair, giving her an amused smile. "Ah. Alright, your money, your choice. But are you sure? You could be in the Expert class, which Brienne teaches--"

"I'm sure. I want to be in your class." She looked straight at him, praying that he see how sincere she was in her wish.

"I'm glad _someone_ wants to be in my class," he said wryly. "Ok, I've got guard duty now. Why don't you swim a bit, let me see what you're capable of, and I'll switch tactics for you from now on."

She smiled and nodded. _He is so kind to me._

**********

**10 years later**

Sandor locked his car door, regretting his responsiblities. The pool was closed for the winter, but maintenance was still needed, and he was "lucky" enough to pull the short straw. His lifeguard days were far behind him, but he had enjoyed working with the Parks and Rec Department so much, he had come back after graduation, and had worked his way up to the position of director.

His keys fell. "Of course..." He picked them back up, the old key ring on it catching his eye. A small plastic disk, with a little red bird under the scratched plastic, faded from years of use. A gift from his favorite swimming student, who turned out to be a better swimmer than anyone who worked at the pool. He still didn't know why she had decided to join his class, but he had been glad that she had. She had been his friend, one of the precious few that bothered to get to know him. Sansa and her family had moved away, a few weeks before summer ended, and she had given him the key chain to remember her by. Every time he saw it, he thought of her, wondered how she was doing. At eleven years old, she had already been a little beauty, and she would only grow more beautiful, he knew it. His small attraction to her had been the only dark cloud on their relationship. He wasn't a pedophile, not in the slightest, and he had never been the least bit tempted to act upon it, but he _had_ been attracted to her, not for her physical looks, but for her inner beauty, her kindness, her joy at being alive. She was like an old soul, trapped in a young body. He chuckled. It was her eyes, those big, soulful eyes. "Not that she would have ever felt the same way towards me, even if we had been the same age," he muttered to himself and unlocked the back door of the building.

Gathering up the supplies he needed, he got ready to sweep out the pool area, stopping short when he saw that someone was there, standing in the middle of the empty pool. "Hey! You're not supposed to be in there," he shouted. The covered head turned towards him, though he couldn't see the person's face, it was obstructed by the edge of the pool.

"Mr. Clegane? Is that you?" a lilting voice came.

 _A woman._ "Yeah... I know you?" He walked closer to the pool, the woman's beanie moving towards the shallow end, the rest of her coming into view. Long auburn hair cascading down her back.

"Mr. Clegane, it's been a long time. Do you remember me?" she asked, climbing out of the pool. Two Tully blue eyes stared back into his grey ones. "I'm--"

"Sansa Stark," he whispered. He had been right. She _had_ grown more beautiful. "What are you doing here? You're trespassing..."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not. I'm here to clean."

"Clean?"

"Yeah, didn't anyone tell you?" she asked, tilting her head at him. "I'm the new junior parks manager. I was surprised to see that you're the director. Pod said I could come help you."

"Pod...told you to come here?" _That little weasel tricked her! He was supposed to come help me!_

"Well, I volunteered when I found out it was you doing it," she said with a shy smile. "I really wanted to see you again, and I couldn't wait until we got back to the office."

"Oh? Why's that?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest, pleased that she wanted to see him again, but trying to not show it. With the way the department was structured, he wasn't her boss so she had no reason to be sucking up to him by helping, and he was trying to figure out why she volunteered for a shit chore.

"Because..." She stepped forward until she was practically touching him. "I need to know..."

"Know what?" he asked, feeling a bit apprehensive. She was looking up at him with those soulful eyes, a slightly quivering lip, her mittened hand on his arm, her other on his cheek. She pulled him down a bit, just enough so that her soft lips touched his slightly chapped ones. He unfurled his arms and wrapped them around her, deepening the kiss.

When they broke apart, she sighed happily. "I needed to know if the spark was there. And it is. Mr. Clegane, Sandor, would you please go out on a date with me?"

Feeling very confused, because it sounded like she had been thinking about this for a while, he nodded, hoping that somewhere along the way, it would begin to make sense.


	14. Love Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nostalgicgirl99, SanSan Prompt#7: Sansa writes a loveletter to the hound secretly and keeps it in her room, Joffrey orders the hound to search Sansa’s room to find anything treasonous. The hound finds the letter under Sansa’s pillow, after many hours of drinking he confronts Sansa about it at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Picture is not mine, I believe nostalgicgirl99 edited and posted it originally.

_Buggering little cunt,_ Sandor thought. He threw a pillow over his shoulder. After running away from the battlefield, Joffrey had decided to punish his Hound with stupid tasks such as this, despite the fact that he had returned and slaughtered the king’s enemies. Currently, he was looking for proof that the Stark girl was a traitor through and through.

_What could the girl possibly have that is "treasonous"? Bunch of flowers... a doll... a handkerchief... a cloak..._ He stopped and stared at the white cloak. _His_ white cloak. He shook his head. He knew she couldn't possibly have kept it in purpose. Blood stained, sooty, and smelling of sweat and smoke, he tossed it to the side, making a mental note to take it with him.

He had left the bed for last, since it wouldn’t take long to check it. Flipping the blanket back, then knocking the pillow off the bed, he was about to pull the sheets back when he saw a folded piece of paper. He picked it up and opened it. It was riddled with crossed out words, making him think it was a practice letter.

**_~~Dear Sandor~~ ~~To Sandor~~ To the Hound:_ **

**_I know you will mock me, maybe even not believe me, but I most ardently ~~lov~~ admire you. You are so strong, so very brave. I strive to be as strong in will as you are, to face ~~Cersei and Joffrey~~ my demons head on, to not back down from what scares me. It may take me a while, however._ **

**_You are so kind to me, though in very unkind ways. You protect me at your own risk, and I want to ~~just kis~~ thank you for that. You are quick of mind, an other admirable quality, one I could never hope to imitate, but I will try._ **

**_**_I thank you, ~~ser~~ ~~non-ser~~ Hound, for your bravery that day, the day of the riot. You said it wasn’t bravery, but it was! No other came to my rescue, and I could not have stood up to those men as you did. I tried, but it wasn’t enough. They could have killed you, killed us both ** _ ** _, so yes, it was brave of you_**_**. I refuse to let you say otherwise. I still have nightmares of that day, but seeing you here, knowing you are close by, it helps so much more than you could know. ~~Sometimes I dream of you~~ _ **  
_ **

**~~_There are words I wish to tell you, but I don’t think you’ll ever believe me when I say them. I’m not lying, however, when I look upon you and think ‘I love this man.’ I love you, Sandor Clegane. I wish to kiss you. I wish to marry you, I wish to give you children and be with you for all my time._ ~~ ** ****

**_I pray for you, Sandor Clegane. I hope that you will someday believe that you are worthy of a better existence than that of a ‘Lannister dog’. You are not a dog, not to me._ **

_~~Yours~~ Sincerely, Sansa_

He stared down at the letter. _What the buggering hells did I just read?_

**********

After setting her room to rights, Sandor wandered into town and proceeded to get drunk. Very. Incredibly. Drunk. He ended up sleeping in the stall next to Stranger, and woke several hours later, not entirely certain how he got there, and still drunk. He _must_ have been still drunk. Otherwise, how else could he explain why he stumbled around the castle until he was in front of the Little Bird’s door? He could hear shuffling inside, despite the late hour, and thumped his meaty fist on the thick wood. The movement stopped. “Open up, it’s me,” he slurred. The movement inside started up again, and he heard the bolt being slid back. He was pushing into the room before she had barely gotten the door open. He stopped short as he took in the scene. It looked like a battle had happened, and he _knew_ he had straightened it up before leaving earlier.

“What’s all this about?” he demanded.

“I...” She looked up at him frantically. “I lost something. A letter. A very... A very _treasonous_ letter. The king will have my head if he finds out about it.”

“Why are you telling me about it? I’m the king’s dog. I could go straight to him and tell him of it right now,” he sneered, taking a step closer to her, and then another, and another, until she was backed up against the wall.

“You... You won’t. You wouldn’t,” she whispered. Not a command, or a plea. She wholeheartedly believed that he wouldn’t betray her. 

“What was in this _treasonous_ letter?” he asked, his head still swimming from the wine he had imbibed earlier. For some reason, he couldn’t look away from her lips, so lush and pink. “Was it really so bad?”

“It was...” she continued to whisper. He thought he felt her hands on his torso. He had removed his armor before passing out in the stables, he now remembered, and hadn’t put it back on. “I... The king, he will not let this slide.”

“What was in it?” he demanded.

“I dare not say.”

He scoffed. “Does it have anything to do with a love confession to the king’s dog?”

Her mouth fell open, and he suddenly wanted to kiss her. Very badly. _Bad dog,_ he thought. _It was just a joke, a jape, the letter meant nothing._ He touched his finger to her bottom lip, stroking it with his thumb. 

“How... How did you know?” He felt her hands curl into fists, the fabric of his tunic bunching as she drew it in. 

“Found it. Lucky it was me. Lucky I’m being punished for being a deserter. If Trant had been the one...” He didn’t want to think about what would happen.

“Yes,” she murmured, her hands now on his cheeks. “I am lucky to have you here. But...what did you think of my letter? I know it wasn’t as polished as it could have been, though I suspect you do not care about that sort of thing.”

He snorted, and grasped her chin in his hand, his thumb still stroking her lower lip. “A poor jape, little bird. You know not what a man would do if those words were true.”

“What would a man do? What would _you_ do? If they were true, I mean,” she said. He was vaguely aware of her hands sliding back, from his cheeks to behind his head, her arms around his neck.

“I... _A man,_ I mean, a man would not be able to hold myself back from taking you, if I... if _he_ thought you loved him. He... I... would take you from here, put a bastard in your belly and live out my... _his_ days as your shield and sword.” Was the world supposed to tilt to the left like it was currently doing?

“A man would be greatly rewarded with my love and willingness to bear his _trueborn_ children,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her breasts pressing against his chest.

“Trueborn...” The world had suddenly started alternating on the tilt, first left, then right. “I... A man... could show you the world, if you were willing to bear his trueborn children...” He tried to get the world to stop moving so much by closing his eyes, settling his hands on her waist. “Shining... shimmering... splendid little bird. When was the last time you let your heart decide? We could see the world, a whole new world to both of us, a new and fantastic point of view, no one to tell you no, tell me where to go, or tell you you’re only dreaming...”

“You’re poetic when you’re drunk,” she said softly, her fingers gliding through his hair. “You’ll take me from here, from King’s Landing? Become my husband, my protector?”

“Yes, little bird,” he said, his head falling forward until it met the stone behind her, his mouth now next to her ear. “To Braavos, to Lys, to any of the Free Cities... It would be an adventure, my little bird... my little wife. I have money. Could buy a ship, could buy a crew... Anywhere you want to go, we’ll go...”

“And babies? You’ll want our babies on your new ship?”

“Not mine... Yours. Your ship... Our babies... They’ll be sea fish, not river fish... The ship will be called... Bird...” he mumbled. He felt her push him, but before he could protest, she was pulling him, he didn’t know where, his eyelids were too heavy to open. “Birdy... Bird’s Song... Something with birds...” She sat him down on something soft, then pushed him back to lie down. “We should go...”

“Alright... we’ll go,” he heard her say before blacking out.

*********

Sandor awoke the next morning, his head feeling like it was splitting open, and like the sun was too bright, bits of straw jabbing him in the mouth. “Buggering hells...where am I?”  _Was it a dream? Did I not go to the little bird’s room after all? Thank all the buggering--_

“The stables of the Red Keep.” He turned his head, and found the little bird sitting on a small stool at his side. 

“How’d I get... Wasn’t I...?”

“You were in my room last night. Very drunk.” He winced. “But no damage done. For the most part. Shae was upset over the chair you broke.”

“What chair?”

She smiled, far to amused at his expense. “I tried to get you to lie down, and you were still for a little bit, but then you jumped up, exclaiming that you would save me from this pit of vipers, then fell on Shae’s favorite chair and broke it. You grabbed a bag, and started stuffing it with my things, then you dragged me down to the stables, picking up stuff you claimed as yours, and here we are. You passed out again before you even got to your horse.” She pointed to the bag next to his head, part of which he had been using as a pillow. “All of our worldly possessions to start our new life, you said.”

He sat up and opened the bag to find a slipper, three pieces of soap, some spoons, and a very disgruntled chicken that cawed at him, pecked at his hand, then ran away.

“Little bird... I... I am so sorry...” he said, feeling truly terrible about it all, and not just because he was hungover. “I didn’t mean... I raised your hopes like that...”

“It’s alright, Sandor. It’s better this way, really. You were much too drunk to pull off an escape successfully, though you did provide some interesting gossip for the castle.” He gaped at her. “Oh, no, nothing too bad. No one seems to know it was me you had with you. We would be in front of the king right now if they did. And...” She smiled at him. “And I know that it is the thought that counts. Thank you, Sandor. It told me everything I need to know, and that means so much to me.”

She stood up and offered him her hand. “What are we doing now?” he asked, rising to his feet unsteadily. His head was still killing him, and his stomach felt like he had left it on the stable floor.

“Going about our day, as if nothing has changed,” she said. “Only we will know that it has. We will wait for the right opportunity, and then... then we will leave this place behind. Go to Lys, or the Wall, or even Dorne...maybe to the other side of the known world. You have a whole world to show me, Sandor.” She smiled brightly at him. “I intend to hold you to your promises.”


	15. Hitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> big_dog_little_dove asks: Sandor clegane is in luv with the heiress hs security team guards. He doesnt lead the team. He's jst a grunt. He doesnt much interact with Sansa n wen he does it doesnt cast hm in the best light (hello, he's the hound) bt he's hopelessly in luv with her so he hires Hitch (frm the Will smith movie). Plz dnt turn sandor in2 the character frm tht movie. Plz keep hm in character (with the exception of hiring a date doctor). I'd appreciate ths story being written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to state that I’ve never actually watched Hitch all the way through, but I’ve seen bits and pieces of it over the years, so I have a rough idea of what happens. Fairly certain the personality I use for Hitch is OOC, but meh. I imagine this story will take place sometime after the events of the movie though, so Hitch is open to helping his clients for more than just date stuff, since I really don’t think hiring a date doctor to help him is something that in-character Sandor would do. More like, confidence building or changing some bad behavior? :D I dunno, kind of stretching it here.
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Sandor stared at the card in his hand.

He had received it from a stranger nearly four months ago, while he had been drinking at the bar, complaining to the man about his love life, or rather, his crush on the woman he was paid to protect. "This isn't like some Bodyguard movie bullshit," he had told the man, "I think...never seen the movie... I lurve...love... I love her... I would die for her, which is what I'm supposed to do, should it come down to that. And I would... gladly. I would die so that that angle... angel may live. And I can't even fucking talk to her... I just snap and snarl instead of making actual fucking conversation. And now...fuck...just got promoted to full-time security detail for her, so goona be around her all the fucking time..."

"You've got it bad, man," the stranger had said. "If you ever need any help, give me a call. The name's Jalabhar Xho Hitchens, but you can call me Hitch. I am a relationship and behavioral consultant."

Sandor hadn't thought he would need it. He knew he could never stand a chance with her date-wise, but if he didn't do something about his behavior towards her, her father had threatened to have him fired and had said so in front of _her_ , which had really been the kick in the crotch that had him searching for the man's card. She had been kind, and told him he didn't need to change, but he knew he needed to. He took a deep breath and dialed the number on the card.

**********

_Breathe..._ he told himself. _She's just another woman. Albeit, the most beautiful and kindest woman I've ever met, but still, just another woman. You met plenty of women this past weekend, and you didn't freak out. You can do this._ He had spent his days off with Hitch, practicing talking to women in a bar as a way of desensitizing him to his anxiety. Not trying to pick them up, just talking to them. Most of them were perplexed that he was only talking to them, several walked off when they realized he wasn't about to buy them drinks or take them home for a fuck, and the few that did talk to him were nice enough, though that Asha chick did say she would meet up for sparring if he wanted a go. Completely platonic offer, and he not only appreciated that, he had taken her up on it. He had only run away from two women who weren't taking 'No' for an answer on the fucking.

He had told the man he only wanted to keep his job, not try to get her to go out on a date with him. Hitch had been adamant that he not look at it like that, "If she wants to date you, she will. If she doesn't, then don't worry about it. After a recent eyeopening experience with a client and my own love life, I find that the old adage is true, you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink. I am just giving you your best chance. And if that best chance is merely keeping your job, then so be it." Hitch had also told him that women like the little bird wanted to be respected, to which Sandor replied that he was very respectful of her person, just not very nice. Hitch had told him being nice is a sign of respect, also no more mocking nicknames, no more swearing in front of her, and biting his tongue whenever he felt the need to make a snide remark. He had wanted to argue that "little bird" may have started off as a mocking nickname, and he didn't consider it like that anymore, but he couldn't say the same for the litt-- for Miss Stark.

"Clegane," Miss Stark said, exiting her room, dressed casually in a sweater dress and trench coat, and looking as beautiful as always. "I trust you'll be better behaved today?" He could see the slight smile on her face. _At least one of us is enjoying this._

"Yes, Miss Stark," he said. She turned her head sharply, looking at him under intense scrutiny.

"Alright, let's get going then," she said after a moment. It must have been his imagination, but she seemed almost disappointed.

**********

Sansa Stark, heiress to Stark Enterprises, _the_ leading company in computer technology and security, was not accustomed to sitting by and acting like the pampered, spoiled princess most assumed heiresses to be. She was not talented in the way most of her family was, inclined towards programming and whatever else was involved in computer technology. Her talents lay in people skills. She and her mother were the driving force behind the companies charitable sector. As part of the security team for the Stark family, Sandor's job was to keep the litt-- Miss Stark safe from people who would kidnap her or hurt her. It usually involved a lot of following her around, and the common scaring off of unwanted attention. She had gone as far as to set up a signal if she _didn't_ want him scaring a potential suitor off. He had yet to see it used. On the rare occasion when someone tried to get to her, he had been the deciding factor of her safety. He would have thought that would have counted for something, or at least more than nice manners, but according to Mr. Stark, it did not.

They were just leaving a meeting with potential donors to Stark Charities when she said, "You're different today. Less..." He raised an eyebrow as she searched for a tactful way to say it.

"Less volatile," he supplied. "Less of an asshole."

"Less you," she said, shaking her head, but smiling. He forced a smile. _That's me, 100% angry, violent asshole._ At least she didn't berate him for it.

"That's a good thing." Even if it didn't come easily, he would change, if only so that he could keep his job and keep protecting her. He was the best at what he did, and no one would argue with that.

"Is it?" she asked.

"Yes."

**********

After work, Hitch took him to the park."I spoke with your employer today. He has agreed to not fire you if you complete my program, though I did have to assure him it was for the behavioral aspects, and not the relationship. How was today?"

"Better. Didn't curse once in her presence, though I felt like I was going to bust by the end of it. What are we doing here?"

"You're going to do some dog-walking today."

"Did you lose a bet?" Sandor asked. "And now you have to get people to help you fulfill it?"

Hitch laughed. "No, my friend. But this is a volunteer event. If you would like to do something else, that's fine, but you mentioned that you like dogs, and I have a good behavioral exercise for today. We're going to get you the most temperamental dog they have, and you will foster him for a week. You will walk him, feed him, and curb his behavior. If you can deal with him, you will better be able to deal with your own behavior. So, how about it?"

"Yeah, sure, why not," he said, feeling a bit defeated. He couldn't lose his job. He couldn't entrust her safety to a lesser guard. _I can do this..._

**********

"You're late," she said. He had been chasing down his foster dog, a black Yorkshire terrier, so that, Bradlen, the man from the day care could take him while he was at work. He had been surprised to find out that the temperamental bastard Hitch had intended for him was such a small dog, but that small dog was more of a terror than a terrier. For security purposes, he lived in the same apartment building as the li-- as Miss Stark, only a floor below her, so he couldn't explain it away as heavy traffic.

"Sorry, won't happen again."

She stared at him, studying him. "It's alright. Just...let me know if you need some extra time." She looked at him expectantly, but when he didn't say anything, she asked, "What kept you from your usual punctuality? Late night?"

"A bit. Kept up by...well, probably shouldn't talk about it." The terror, named Stranger of all things, had been incredibly unhappy about his new temporary home, and had yipped and yapped until Sandor had let him sleep on the bed. He was only slightly surprised he hadn't had any complaints from the apartment manager, but then this was a well built place with thick, insulated walls. He had woken up to the tiny terror nestled peacefully in the crook of his neck. "Shall we get going then?"

Miss Stark bit her lower lip, considering something, but nodded and led the way.

**********

"Today, we will work more with Stranger," Hitch said. "How had it been these past two days?"

"He sheds all over the place, but he only pees and shits in the corner he's suppose to do his business in, so I guess there's that." Sandor had been nervous about leaving the pup (he didn't care if it was a full grown dog, he was calling it a pup) alone in his apartment, but he seemed to be well trained in that aspect.

"Well, some dogs do shed. Walking in the park again, but this time, I want you to walk past groups of people, specifically women, and see how you handle that. Alright?"

He sighed. This was the weirdest behavioral modification he had ever heard of, not that he had heard of many, this was just so strange, and he told Hitch as much.

"It may seem strange, but you need to calm your demons. Taking care of another being is a way to help you realize that you are not the center of the universe, you are just a mere piece in a larger puzzle. If you can handle Stranger while also talking to women, who will approach you because this is such a cute dog, then you will have a better understanding of how you should be when you speak to your charge. Miss Stark, was it not?"

Sandor nodded. "Fine, let's get this over with."

**********

She was mad about something, but he had no idea what, and no idea how to fix it, or if he _should_ fix it. The normally sweet woman he watched over was on a warpath, and woe be to anyone who got in her way. He was finally able to relax when she went into her meeting with Petyr Baelish of the King's Landing Brothels. If he remembered correctly, the li-- Miss Stark wanted to have the legalities of the houses looked over with a fine-toothed comb, to make sure that the females working there were well cared for, and were not being coerced in anyway. She did not particularly like the idea of women selling their bodies, but as long as they were doing it of their own free will, she would work tirelessly to make sure they were not ill treated.

"She's in a funk today," Brienne said. The tall, blonde woman was Catelyn Stark's personal guard and Sandor's co-worker. Since Miss Stark and Mrs. Stark worked together, Sandor often found himself working with Brienne Tarth-Lannister.

"No shit. No idea why either," Sandor said with a snort. Brienne did not care how Sandor spoke, so he felt free to curse around her, but he was careful to not overdo it.

"Isn't it obvious?" a third person asked. A buxom, redheaded woman stepped out of the meeting room and closing the door firmly behind her. Sandor could see Miss Stark talking animatedly with her hands through the glass doors. "No one likes to deal with Mr. Baelish. Not even Mrs. Stark, and they're childhood friends."

"And you are?" Brienne asked.

"Ros Snow, assistant to Mr. Baelish, though considering how Miss Stark is fighting for the girls' rights in there, I'm considering applying to Stark Enterprises." She looked Sandor up and down, her eyes lingering on his facial scars with slight disappointment before traveling back down his body. He shuddered a little, unused to such attention from a sober woman. She took a few steps until she was standing right in front of Sandor, her hand on his chest. "And I do like the looks of the...staff..."

"HR is two floors down, if you're that interested," Brienne said icily. "Make sure you get Mordane. She'll help you right out."

Ros gave Brienne a gentle smile and sauntered off, winking at Sandor and slipping a card with her number handwritten on the back into his shirt pocket. He let out a breath once she was gone. Mrs. Mordane was possibly the worst person in HR, since she was such a hardass. Referring someone to her was just plain mean.

"Tch, some women..." Brienne said with a scowl. "Why didn't you push her off of you?"

He shrugged. "Not like anything was about to happen, and it would just cause trouble for the Starks. Trying to behave better, remember?" He fished the card out of his pocket and tossed it into the trashcan farther down the hallway. "Oh, I'm fostering a dog this week."

"A dog?" Brienne perked up. She loved animals of all kinds. "What kind?"

"Uh...a black one?"

Brienne laughed. "You're such a dummy. Have you told Miss Stark?"

"Why would I do that?" He thought for a minute. "She's not allergic to dogs, as far as I know."

"Wow...you really are a dummy," Brienne said. "She would probably like to meet the dog and mother it to pieces." 

He told her more about the dog, answered any questions she had about him, and was surprised when the door flew open, signalling the end of the meeting. Mrs. Stark left first, Miss Stark second. Sandor gave a brief glance into the meeting room to see a slightly taken aback man, sitting at the table in shock.

"Good meeting then, Miss Stark?" he asked.

She gave him a sharp look, "It was fine. Got everything we wanted and then some. Mr. Baelish didn't know what hit him."

He couldn't be completely certain, but it seemed to him that she was even angrier than before.

**********

They were at the bar again. A different one from the last, as Hitch told him he should push his boundaries, and if he had tried the same exercise at the same bar as last time, it wouldn't do him any good. He talked to nearly all the single women, more of them walked away than last time, but none were overly persistent in their drunkenness, so he called that a win. He ended up chatting the rest of the night away with Ygritte. Like Asha, he knew he was in no danger of her thinking it would lead to something more, but for a different reason. "My Jon knows I'm loyal, and you're not pretty enough to tempt me anyway," she said with a laugh. She even showed him a picture. "Like a girl he is, but under all that grump and thick clothing is a man, through and through. It's just his face that's pretty. Well, his cock is pretty, too, but in a different way. I'd imagine yours is too monstrous, even if the size would be nice."

He barked a laugh at that, earning some stares from a few of the other patrons, including a blonde who was wearing sunglasses indoors. At night. And she kept staring at him. He hadn't approached that one. She had a strange vibe around her.

**********

Miss Stark was in a worse mood today, if that was even possible. No one wanted to cross her path, and he even saw her normally fearless sister run away before they could meet. The exception was her assistant, but Shae had been with Miss Stark for far longer than anyone else. On the up side of things, everyone she meet with in meetings agreed to her terms and a few even insisted on giving more than they planned, if only to soothe the troubled waters. He wanted to ask, wanted to snap at her to cut the shit out, but he bit his tongue, even when she looked at him like she expected a response. It got bad enough that her father called her to his office. Sandor waited outside with Jory, Mr. Stark's personal guard.

"What in the seven hells is going on with the little lady?" Jory asked him.

Sandor shook his head. "No idea. It's like all of my bad behavior transferred to her."

"How's that going, by the way? The better behavior? Rough deal that." Jory, Brienne, Dacey, himself, Podrick, Meera, and Osha made up the security detail for the Starks, and they were all aware of how close Sandor was to being fired.

"Good, I suppose. Past few days have been trying."

"The new dog or because of Miss Stark?" Jory asked with a grin.

"Dealing with the pup is a walk in the park compared to Miss Stark lately," he said with a smile. "So, Brienne told you? Well, not surprised there. Nah, the pup is actually not so bad. Though he attacks his toys like it's kill or be killed. He just gets lonely, I think, and he doesn't seem to have had the most stable life so far and too many people indulging him whenever he yips. He doesn't bark. He yips. High pitched squeak, really. So fucking annoying. Thinking of adopting him."

"You work a lot of hours, man. How do you have time for him?"

"Still more stable than He goes to a dog daycare in the day, and then I play with him until it's time to go to sleep, unless I have to meet up with the behavioral consultant--" They both turned towards the closed office door. Muffled shouting could be heard, but it wasn't until they heard the sound of something breaking that they rushed inside. Sandor and Jory stopped when they saw the unflappable Ned Stark hiding behind his desk, as Miss Stark looked for something else to throw, as the vase she had shattered had missed her father completely. Sandor grabbed her by the wrists, "Alright, that's enough, little bird. Back to your nest," he whispered in her ear. She went stiff for a moment, then meekly followed his lead. "Mr. Stark, I'll take Miss Stark back to her home if you wish to speak to her further. I'll let her assistant know that the rest of her day is cancelled."

"Yes... thank you, Clegane," Mr. Stark replied, visibly shaken.

A quick visit to Miss Stark's office to tell Shae, and then he was driving her back to Wolfswood Apartments. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "What," she said when she noticed. 

He bit his tongue again. "Nothing, Miss Stark." He assumed that was the wrong answer when her face fell, but it was the only answer he could give her. If he let himself slip back to where he had been a week ago, he would have told her that she may have been doing fine so far, but she was treading dangerously and her bad mood would bite her in the ass sooner or later. The remainder of the drive was filled with uncomfortable silence. 

When they got to her penthouse apartment, she stepped off the elevator, then suddenly turned around and said, "I need to talk to you." He had a brief flashback to when he had been told the very same thing by Mr. Stark, but Miss Stark didn't have the power to fire him. He stepped out of the elevator and followed her to her immaculate kitchen. It was incredibly rare that he had been in her apartment, and usually it was only the front hallway. He wondered if she actually used the kitchen or was it just there for looks? As much as he claimed to love Miss Stark to Hitch, he truthfully didn't know her as well as he would have liked. _But that's good. Makes it easier to separate and therefore NOT GET FIRED. Idiot._ He knew her personality well, knew she hid much from the world behind her lovely, albeit sometimes forced, smiles, but her true thoughts, he could only guess at those.

She indicated for him to sit at the kitchen counter as she bustled about the space, heating milk for hot cocoa. He would have smiled if the atmosphere wasn't so tense.

"Do you know why you were assigned to my personal detail?" she asked, her back to him.

He had actually been really surprised when it happened, as he had been part of the Stark general detail before this, and his interactions with Miss Stark had been few and far between, and none of those interactions had been pleasant for her. He had been more than rude, and brutally honest. "No, Miss Stark. I don't."

He saw her tense. "Little bird."

He raised his good eyebrow. "Sorry?"

"You haven't called me 'little bird' in more than a week now, not until earlier today," she said, turning around, her eyes bright with fury.

"I... I didn't mean to do that."

"And you've been gallivanting all over town, _flirting_ with only the gods know how many women, but you can't even be yourself with me! Do you know how _insulting_ that is?"

_Insulting? Flirting? What the hell is she talking about??_

"I specifically _asked_ for you because you are so good at your job, because you are so darn honest, because no matter how scary you may be, you make me feel safe. And this few months since you became my guard, I thought we could even become friends!" she shouted.

"You know your father threatened to have me fired if I didn't change my behavior!" he shouted back. "If I want you to stay safe, sacrifices have to be made!"

"You don't care about the rules! You haven't before!"

"That was before I realized I could be separated from you if I _didn't_ follow the rules!"

"Why does that matter?!"

"Because I love you!"

Her mouth fell open. "You...what?"

_Shit._ He hadn't meant to say that. "I mean...not...I barely know you...I couldn't..." Except he did. He had said he loved her before really getting to know her, but he _had_ been really drunk that night, and he had truly come to love her over the past month. Maybe he didn't know her well enough to really know her quirks, but he knew her kindness, her soft nature, her quick wit, her sharp tongue, her sweet words, her own brand of honesty. "I..."

She walked around the counter and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a harsh kiss.

"Bwah... wut?" was all he could manage when they broke apart.

"You're not going to get fired, not for being yourself," she said softly, her forehead resting against his. Her grip on his collar had loosened and she wasn't moving away from him. "That's what I was yelling about with my father. He was angry at me for acting out, but _I_ was angry that he would force you to change when you are perfect the way you are. I suppose you should probably act like that when others are around," she conceded. "But not when it's just you and me, ok? I... I'm rather fond of you. I've been hoping you would ask me out, but since you are my personal guard, I did realize it was unlikely..." She punched him in the shoulder. "That doesn't mean I want to see you flirting with other women though."

"What the fuck are you talking about? What women?"

"The women you've been flirting with! I saw you! You were walking around the park, chatting up all those hussies, who were only drawn to you because of that adorable doggy, which by the way, why didn't you tell me you had a dog?"

"In the park? You were there?"

She blushed, but said hotly, "You had been acting strangely! So, I followed you. I'm completely justified in that." He was pretty sure she wasn't, but she continued. "And then at the bar!"

"You were at the bar?" He suddenly remembered the blonde woman in the sunglasses that had been staring at him all night. "You wore a wig..."

"And I saw you flirting with that _awful_ woman, and you _never_ laugh like that with _me..._ And then that other awful woman, Baelish's assistant, she couldn't keep her paws off of you... both redheads, I noticed. You're never like that with me!"

"Little bird..."

"What?!"

"Were you... were you actually jealous?" It was too incredible to be true, and he hadn't been flirting with them anyway, just talking.

"I was sooooooo not jealous," she said, but she couldn't look him in the eye. He chuckled, seeing through her lie.

"Those women in the bar, I wasn't flirting with them. I was talking with them. They were just...practice," he told her.

"Practice? For what?" she asked, raising her eyebrow in skepticism.

He took a deep breath. "So that I could talk to you without being an ass. I'm not exactly the most... _eloquent_ man, or well behaved. And when your father said he was going to fire me--"

"Which I would have fought him on," she said.

"But I didn't know that," he reminded her gently. "And Hitch said women like you like to be respected, and that it was a sign of respect to not be so familiar, to curb my cursing... I just wanted to stay with you. That's all."

"What about that woman with Baelish? I saw her through the glass. She was all over you, slipping her card into your--"

"Tossed it out. I left the door for a moment, went down the hall, found a trashcan, and tossed it away. You can ask Brienne."

The look in her eyes had softened. "So... you weren't seeing the 'date doctor' to help you get laid? He came to see Dad and I heard him say he was working with you."

"First off, he doesn't work like that, never did. Second, I was seeing him to help me curb my bad behavior. Third, why would he go see your father if he was helping me 'get laid'?"

She blinked. "Oh... I hadn't thought of that. I was just so angry that you... Alright, fine, I was jealous."

He laughed at that. "He just went there to assure Mr. Stark that I was indeed trying to do better, that's all."

"But you don't _need_ to do better!" she exclaimed. "I like you just the way you are, bad behavior and all. And really, you aren't that terrible. Arya cusses soooooo much more than you do. So does Rickon, for that matter. And...you may have a rough exterior, but I know that deep down, you are a kind and gentle man."

"It has helped though," he said. "Following his advice, doing this 'shock treatment'. Not completely, since you started acting out instead of me, but I can talk to you more easily now."

She hopped onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ok, _fine._ That part is nice. Right now, I mean, but before this, you haven't been talking to me! At all! And seeing you with those women just made me so angry! Please, you can be yourself around me, I promise you. I will never ask you to be like that when it's just us two. And...when it is just us two...you can... I mean, we could...go out? On dates? Or stay in, play with your dog... Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It does. But I'm still your guard."

"I know, but..." She kissed his cheek. "I really do..." She kissed his other cheek. "Like you. Enough to date you. Enough to try to make a relationship work. What do you say?" She kissed his lips.

"I think... I wouldn't mind trying," he whispered. A scent hit his nose. "Uh, little bird?"

"Yeah?" she asked dreamily.

"Do you smell something burning?" he asked. 

"Burning? The milk!" she cried, and rushed to the stove while Sandor shook his head, laughing.


	16. Drunk Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crushnotsosecret: I love drunk Sandor!!! I love drunk Sansa too... wouldn't be great to have them both confessing their love and lust while drunk??

"You really want to try getting drunk with me?" Sandor asked her. He looked at her like she was nuts to ask, and maybe she was, but that didn't deter her.

"Yes. We're friends, aren't we?" Sansa asked. "And you get drunk with your guy friends all the time."

"Not _all_ the time," he said with a snort. "And it's different with you."

"Why?"

He gave her a look, again like she was nuts, but also like he had a reason that he wasn't going to tell her. "It just is."

"Is it because I'm a girl? You drink with Brienne..."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I say yes, will you drop it?"

"Yes."

"Fine, we can drink together. Don't know why you're so keen on it."

_Because I'm jealous that you can't share this with me. Because I worry that you'll get drunk and go off with some bitch who only wants your cock and none of them are good enough for you,_ she thought. _I may not be good enough either, since you won't even look my way, but I'll be darned if I let someone use you for their own gains._ The thought that he might _want_ to let some random woman do that had crossed her mind and been pushed right back out. _And...I think if I'm drunk with you, I might be brave enough to tell you how I feel about you..._

**********

Arya had advised her to eat some bread before meeting up with Sandor at his place. He had told her straight out that he wasn't going to let her anywhere near the bar until he knew her limits. She had huffed at first, but then realized that he was probably right. If she was going to be an embarrassing drunk, at least it was with Sandor and no one else. It would also help with her plans to confess to him, since she would feel less pressure without anyone else around.

"Alright, start you off slow," he said. They were sitting in his living room, the tv on in the background, an ice chest next to him for mixers and other things, and a small collection of booze and glasses on the coffee table in between them. "Fucking embarrassing buying this shit." He placed a wine cooler in front of her. "If you can finish this, then I'll give you something stronger."

A little offended that he thought she couldn't handle this much, a carbonated drink with only 0.07% alcohol, she picked it up and chugged it, keeping her eyes locked with his. When she was done, she did her best Arya impression and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, placing the now empty bottle on the coffee table with a solid thud. Then she burped louder and longer than she had ever imagined possible. Her face burned with embarrassment as she said in the most nonchalant way she could manage, "Pardon me."

Sandor was covering his mouth, trying to not bust a gut laughing at her. "You are _pardoned,_ little bird. Well, let's get you another drink."

**********

She was four drinks in and feeling light headed. Sandor was on his sixth beer, and mouthing off about how much of a lightweight she had to be if she had only had two drinks and was like this.

"Hey!" she shouted, then covered her mouth and giggled. "I've had _four_ drinks, sankyooverramuch. A fizzy navel--"

"Fuzzy navel."

"--a dank curry--"

"Daiquiri."

"--a bamama llama hama ding dong--"

"... What?"

"-- and that shit you call a girly drink. Freaking soda with a dash of alky-hall, that's what it is..." She pointed at his drinks. "Yoooooouu've had...what? Beer? Pfffffft... That's nothing. _Nothing!_ Arya can drink that many and not even be tipsy. What'sa matter, Sand-OR. You afraid of letting loose with me? Think I can't handle it? I can handle it. I. Can. _Handle. IT."_ She was soooo not thinking of handling him. 

He squinted at her. "You _implying_ I'm being a coward about this?"

"Oh. No. Not at ALLLLLL," she said with a grin. "I'm outright _saying it._ " She raised her hands to her armpits and flapped her elbows, making chicken sounds as she did so. At least she was pretty sure they were chicken sounds. Sandor got the point.

"Oh, you are _on!"_ he yelled and slammed down some shot glasses. "Pour 'em up!"

**********

Five shots (three for him, two for her) and two more bahama mamas (one for her, one for him) later, Sansa giggled as she watched Sandor struggle to remove his shirt. "Fucking ass shit strangling cocksucker..." he growled, muffled by the shirt. He fell over just as the neck of his shirt cleared his head. "Ow."

"Aawwwww, poor babby," Sansa cooed and shuffled over to him, stroking his hair as he looked up at her. "Did you hit your wittle hed?"

"Woman, nothing about me is _wittle,_ least of all my giant head," he snarled, but it lacked his usual ferocity.

She giggled again. "Is that so?" Her eyes glided down his body.

"Don't even go there," he hissed. "I'm not taking my pants off to prove a point."

"Then I'm juss gonna think yer lyin'. 'Cause why else would you not want to?" She poked him in the chest. "C'mon... it's juss me here. Take 'em off."

"Oh for fuck's sake..."

**********

He still refused to take his pants off after two more drinks, and Sansa became more insistent that he do so. Her words were slurring less since it had been an hour since her last drink, and she had a rough idea of where she wanted to go with this newfound lack of inhibition. She felt good, very light, floaty even. Like nothing could go wrong.

"Por qua?" she asked in a language that she couldn't quite remember the name of, or if she was even saying the words right. "I'mma just think yer being chickens agains."

"Sansa, I'm warning you..." His eyes were closed.

"How come you talk so good, even after _all_ those drinkies?" She was sitting next to him on the couch, periodically reaching for his pants zipper and getting swatted away each time. _I wanna see it..._ It had become her mission in life. Her confession could wait.

"Pratcice. I mean, practice. Got ten years on you in life, and way more in drinking, since you started so late. Fuck, my head is spinning though... Not used to hard spirits..."

"Lemme see it."

"No."

"I'll showed you mines?"

A pause. "Still no. But I'm not going to stop you from de-pantsing."

"Jerk. I wanna see it. Lemme see it."

"Why're you so fucking adamant about this? It's just a cock."

"But it's _your..._ um..."

"You can't even say it, can you?" he said with a laugh. "Cock. _Cock._ COCK."

She growled at him. "Just lemme see it! I wanna know whats the fusses is all about."

"What fuss?"

_"The_ buss, fuss. The Bros always joke about it, the whores at the bar always _whisper_ about it..." She climbed up onto his lap to look him straight in the eye, which he barely opened, crossing her arms over her chest to show him she meant business. "So I wanna _know."_

"How do you know what 'the whores' are whispering about?" he asked with a snort.

She puffed out her cheeks and turned away from him. "Brienne told me."

"Brienne wouldn't talk about that kind of shit." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, but she looked everywhere but his face. "Sansa..."

"What?"

He sighed and let go of her chin. "For fuck's sake, you're acting like you're jealous or something..."

"So what if _I am?"_ she asked. "Do you have any idea how _awesome_ you are, and you, what, just want to waste it on those slut bitches? Yet whenever you're around me, you just tip tip tip toe about, and the gods forbid if I try to cozy up to you, even if it's just in a _friendly_ manner. Friendzone me whydoncha..."

"Whoa, calm down... It's not that I don't _want_ to...it's just..."

"Just what?" she asked, leaning forward. "Am I not _good_ enough for you to kiss? To _cuddle_? To stick your... your...your _dick_ into?" She felt rather proud of herself for actually saying the word, even if it wasn't the same word he used.

"Is that what this is about? You just want me to fuck you and be done with it?" he asked in disbelief and a bit of disappointment.

Her eyes went wide. "What! No! I mean, yes, but no! Not just _be done with it,_ for it to be a part of something greater." Her voice dropped in volume, "I mean...yes, I want to... have sex with you... but I also want to _date_ you, and still be friends, because I really like you, as a friend, but I want to like you as a _boy_ friend, and..."

"You think I don't want that? Sansa, I haven't _dated_ ever. I don't know the first fucking thing about being a boyfriend, and I would fuck it up, I just know it. Yeah, I've fucked around a bit, but..."

"I don't want to hear about _them_ ," she groaned. "I mean, here I am, pouring my heart out to you, telling you I like you, that I want you, want to be with you, and you bring up past conquests??"

"They weren't _conquests,"_ he muttered. "Just...scratching an itch..."

She slapped a hand over his mouth. "Nope! Dun wanna to hear it."

He looked really amused by her antics. "Fo wut dof yuu fwunt tu seer?"

"What?" She took her hand off his mouth.

"So what to you want to hear?" he asked, grinning.

"I wanna hear..." What did she want to hear from him? That he wanted her too? Yes. That he wanted to date her too? Of course! That he liked her? Duh-doy. But to actually come out and say it? And why hadn't he said anything in response to her declarations? A thought occurred to her. "Do you nut... Do you not feel the same?" The sudden horrible sinking feeling mixed with the amount of alcohol she had consumed was taking its toll. She thought she might throw up.

"It's not that..." He looked away and then she really felt sick. _Oh gods... I've miscalculated... so very badly..._ "You're drunk, little bird. And anything you say, anything _anyone_ says while drunk needs to be taken when a grain of salt. With a grain, I mean."

"So you dun want me?" she asked in a small voice, her hands on his chest, pushing away, gods she needs to get away, her head had been so floaty, but now it was sinking like a stone and the room, oh gods, the room, it was too small, too cramped, too close and she couldn't _breathe,_ all she wanted to do was rush outside and take big gulps of air she was sinking drowning why why did she think this was a good idea?!?!

"Little bird... Sansa..."

She crashed into the coffee table, but thankfully didn't break anything. Her legs were wobbly underneath her, yet she somehow managed to get up. She felt him reaching for her, but no no no no no that was wrong, she didn't want his pity, she wanted his love and the room was moving she was moving, running as fast as she could down the hallway. His voice, he was calling after her, but no don't stop can't stop won't stop. The bathroom was right there, but the back door was just a little further and then she was outside, clutching the rail of the back porch, breathing deeply as a light snow fell. Her face burned from the alcohol, from her embarrassment, from the fury she felt at herself for thinking he might, just _might_ feel the same attraction she had felt. _Stupid girl stupid stupid stupid they were right they were ALL right so stupid so naive so gullible of course he wouldn't want someone as stupid as you_

She retched over the side of the railing, the contents of her stomach emptying onto the snow covered bushes. It took several moments, and a few false finishes, but by the time she was done, she felt better. Physically, at least. She knew she should go back inside, as she wasn't dressed for being out in the cold, but her shame was too great, and she sat down on the bench next to the wall of the house, ignoring the pile of snow she had just sat in. She had really thought... with the way he sometimes looked at her, the way he was with her, so protective and almost boyfriend-like, that he might be interested in her like she was in him. _I guess ten years is too great an age gap... I'm just a child to him, aren't I?_ She sniffled, wiping away the tears that began to fall. _I'm never going to live this down. Never going to be able to face him again. Never going to get over him either. I'll end up an old spinster, with a million dogs and yell at the neighborhood kids to get off my lawn. Sic 'em, Fido! Yeah, that sounds nice..._ she thought. Her eyelids were so heavy. So were her limbs. Cold too. She hadn't noticed before. How long had she been outside? Her skin was a little blue. _Should probably go inside. Warm up. Drink until I forget I said anything. But I'm so tired...I don't think I can move... And it's so pretty out here..._ Her eyes fluttered shut, just as she heard the back door open.

**********

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she heard as she woke up slowly. She was lying on something soft, but she wasn't sure what. Sandor was next to her, his warm body a welcome relief after all that cold snow. "Fuck, don't die, please don't fucking die... Please, Sansa, you can't die. You can't leave me like this. I'm in love with you."

"Sandor..." she croaked, her voice dry from sleep and her earlier drinking. "I'm not going to die..."

"Oh, fuck," he said, but he was hugging her fiercely. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just got a bit cold. So stupid of me, going outside like that." Her head was aching but her mind felt clear. "Did you just say you're in love with me?"

"Yes, fuck..." She smiled, finding it amusing that he was much more liberal with the word than when he was sober, which was actually saying a lot. She realized they were lying in his bed, the light snow from earlier had become heavier, the wind picking up and was howling a little outside his window. "I've been in love with you almost as long as I've known you. Almost as long as I've wanted to fuck you, but I'm so old..."

"S'only ten years... I've heard of worse." He nuzzled her. "And you look pretty virile to me. I'm sure you can get it up at least once a week," she teased.

"Jerk," he said, pressing his lips against hers. "At _least_ three times a week, if you're lucky."

She sighed as his warm hands slipped under her shirt and along her chilled skin. Her cold, snow soaked clothing had been removed, and she was wearing one of Sandor's shirts and some of his pajama bottoms, tied snugly around her waist. "And what am I supposed to do the fifty other times a week I'm going to want to jump on you?"

"Just fucking jump on me. I'll make sure you won't be disappointed," he promised. "I'll fuck you so good, you'll never want anyone but me. My tongue, my fingers, my cock, all yours. Fucking hells, ride my thighs, or my calves, any part of me, all of me, it's yours."

"And dates?" she asked, snuggling closer to him.

"Wherever you want," he promised, pulling the comforter closer around them. "Whenever you want. Whatever you want to do."

"I just want to be with you. I want to kiss you, love you, be loved by you, watch movies and tv and talk."

"I want that too, little bird," he murmured. The storm outside was getting worse, but she was safe in the arms of her Sandor, and there was no place she'd rather be.


	17. Walk of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rougefox requests: Sandor wakes up in Sansa’s bed the morning after a huge celebration. Now he has to save her honor by somehow getting back to his end of the castle without being caught still dressed in last night’s feast attire/armor Bonus if he runs into someone else doing “the walk of shame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing this as a continuation of [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9484619/chapters/21462131) previous prompt. :D

“Sandor, your sword is pressing into my bottom,” she mumbled. Sandor’s eyes flew open.  


_Shit…_ he thought, his memory of the previous night flooding back to him in stone cold sobering clarity. He had been drinking at the feast, Joffrey’s celebration for _his_ victory over his uncle Stannis, and he had drunk more than a few skins worth of wine. Considering he had held on to his fear and not abandoned the battle when the green flames threatened to consume him, he had felt it was more than justified for him to partake of some extra Red. He looked down at the girl sleeping beside him. _Not just partaking of Dornish Red either,_ he thought with a chuckle. 

She had fulfilled her promise to give him as much sweetness as she could, save for the sweetest thing he could be given, but he understood why. He didn’t like it, but he understood. He also tried to not think about it, especially since she had been released from her betrothal to Joffrey. He was well aware she was using him for her own safety, he just didn’t care. When she kissed him so sweetly, and let him touch her, let him make her cry out from those touches, he could pretend she really meant it. He could pretend she wanted him, and wanted to give him her maidenhead, but couldn’t.

He untangled himself from her and got out of the bed. The dawn was nearly upon them, and he had to get back to his rooms before anyone realized where he had spent the night. The little bird’s honor was at stake. He allowed himself one, then two, then a third kiss to her lips, which earned him a smile as well. “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Back to my room, before I’m discovered here,” he rasped. “Go back to sleep.”  


“Meet you in my dreams,” she whispered. “Save me from the grumpkins…”  


He chuckled, and put the few articles of clothing he had discarded back on, though maybe not as carefully as he could have. At this hour, there were few others milling about, mostly guards on patrol, and none that questioned his movements. A few maids gave him some side glances, and he heard them whisper, “Did you see? The Hound’s wearing the same clothing as yesterday! Do you think he just passed out somewhere? What if he was visiting a lady friend? What lady would share her bed with him? He’s so scary! Maybe a kitchen wench? Still scary! Must have been drunk… The Hound or the wench? Probably both!” 

They scattered when he turned to snarl at them, tittering like those stupid pigeons he sometimes saw in the courtyard. Huffing, he kept on walking.

“Oh, Clegane, late night as well?” he heard from behind him. He grit his teeth as he turned to face Littlefucker. The smarmy smile on the man’s face was too much this early in the morning. “Rutting with the kitchen help, I hear.”  


“Fell asleep in a hallway,” he said. “Bit too much wine.” It was unusual to see the master of coin around the castle at this hour. “You?”

“Counsel with the King,” Baelish said with a slight shrug, but he was lying, his eyes were too gleeful to not be, and Sandor knew Joffrey detested being awake this early. As king, he’d probably order Baelish’s execution just for suggesting it. He wondered if Baelish had been trying to sniff around Sansa’s room, but he would have seen him a lot sooner if that was the case. He was already in a different part of the castle, and Baelish was. _No…not here for Sansa, not yet anyway. The Tyrells are also being housed in this area…but who would he be seeing from there?_ “Well, I should be on my way then. Good day, Clegane.” Baelish bowed slightly before sodding off.  


He kept walking, dodging anyone who looked familiar, and keeping his eyes trained forward, not looking at anyone. The further he got from Sansa’s room, the easier it was to breathe. Until he walked into someone.

“Oh! Hound! Is just you,” the shameless handmaiden said, straightening her gown. He narrowed his eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was the exact same dress she had been wearing the night before. “Is my lady awake?”  


“How the buggering hells should I know?” he growled.  


She raised an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed over her chest as she eyed him up and down. “She made that tunic, no? Just for last night?”

He glared at her. “The Imp owns a ring just like that one, doesn’t he?” he retorted, pointing down at her ruby and gold clad finger. 

She returned the glare. “I suppose I could be mistaken about the tunic,” she said through gritted teeth.

“S’pose I was mistaken about the ring,” he said with a smile. She sneered at him, walking away with an air of hostility and superiority. He finally reached his room, and fell into the bed, relieved that he hadn’t been discovered, or at least by anyone who would actually pose a threat. He dreamed of his little bird, and how he wished he could have danced with her at the feast.  



	18. Baby Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asks: I would really love to see this done: Sansa and Sandor are neighbors when one day Sansa ask Sandor to get her pregnant because she wants a baby. If you can write I would be super happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> First one of 2017!!

“You can do this…” she told herself, standing in front of her neighbor’s front door. She was holding a strawberry pie in one hand, and a bottle of some of his favorite whiskey in the other. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It took a few moments, then she heard some snuffling at the door, followed by some scratching.

She heard his voice on the other side. “Alright, alright, I’m opening the damn door already. Impatient bastard…” The door swung open and Stranger zipped out, sniffing at her legs and nuzzling her knees. _At least one of the Cleganes is happy to see me,_ she thought, looking up at her scarred neighbor. That was a lie. Sandor always had a smile for her, even if he was so grumpy.

“Hi, Grump. I brought you pie. And whiskey,” she said, holding them out with a bright smile on her face.

He raised an eyebrow at her and sighed, long having given up on her nickname for him, giving her a wry smile and taking them from her. “Little bird. So what do you need?”

“What makes you think--” He gave her a Look. “Alright, fine, I want to ask you a favor. A rather large favor. The pie and whiskey is really just to make you more amiable to listening though. May I come in?” He pushed open the door and walked away. Stranger followed her as she entered and closed the door behind her. She found Sandor in the kitchen, sitting at the little table he had, already digging into the pie without even cutting a slice. He motioned for her to sit.

“Good pie. Make it yourself?”

“Of course. You hate the store bought ones.” She bit her lip as she watched him eat, hoping he would agree to her request. _Don’t lie, you’re hoping he would like to do it the old-fashioned way as well._

She had moved into the neighborhood two years ago after a broken engagement to her now imprisoned fiance. She had been the one to leave, and not even a month later, Joffrey and his mother had been arrested for embezzlement. _Talk about jumping ship at the right time._ She had tried dating a bit, but none of the men really drew her interest long enough to make it past the third date. The Tinder dates had been the worst, and she had abandoned the app only a few weeks after joining. So instead, she threw herself into her work as a personal chef to the wealthy elite of King’s Landing. It was good money, and she would never want for clients. She actually had to turn people away. With her steady paycheck, her plush savings account, her backup source of income (her trust fund) and ticking biological clock, she was ready for the next step in life. She wanted a baby.

Enter her grumpy next door neighbor. Sandor had made himself known when he scared off an incredibly annoying man who wasn’t taking no for an answer when she told him she didn’t want a second date with him, or to even finish the first date. Paul had grabbed her by the arm and was trying to drag her back to his car at the restaurant parking lot, when this huge man had appeared and scared Paul so badly, he had wet himself.

After Paul had run off, Sansa had turned to thank the man, only to realize she had seen him before. “You’re my neighbor!”

He had looked at her like she was daft, but then slow recognition spread across his face. “You’re the little singing bird…”

After that, they had spoken a lot more, and she found herself daring to call him her friend. They spent a lot of time with each other, with her feeding him (he ate mostly junk before her) and him fixing up things around her house (she could do minor repairs, but anything more complicated and Sandor was ready to help), and he was one of the best men she had ever had the pleasure to know. He had even trusted her enough to tell her the secret behind his scars. Most people believed it was from his time in the military, but she knew otherwise. He still worked with the military, but it was with veterans and helping them ease back into civilian life.

She even found herself attracted to him once she got past the rough and snarling exterior to find the still rough yet sweet man underneath, but realized he might be gay, since he never went out with women, brought them home as far as she knew or even showed any interest in them, or her for that matter, and only hung out with his friends. She had once asked him if was seeing anyone, and he had just snorted at her. _Possibly gay or asexual. Both can be worked around if he agrees. If he’s straight...then I have to wonder if I’m just not his type._ She had been disappointed when that thought crossed her mind, but she really did enjoy his friendship, so she hadn’t pushed it, despite often satisfying herself to thoughts of him.

“So what did you want to ask me?” He was half done with the pie.

“Oh, right, well, you see, this is a bit difficult to ask, and I am more than a lot embarrassed to ask this, and you can just say no, and we can forget I even asked, but…” She looked up at him, her fingers clasped together nervously. “Will you be the father to my child?”

He stared for a split second before spitting out the oversized bite of pie in his mouth all over her face. “I’m sorry, say what now?”

She wiped her face off, giving him a sheepish smile. “Maybe I should start at the beginning?”

“Yeah, that would probably be a good thing.” He wiped his own mouth and cleaned up bits of pie from the table.

“Well, see, I’m ready to have a baby, to be a mother, but I haven’t met anyone I’m prepared to make a commitment to, except… you and I get along rather well, don’t you think?”

“S’pose so.” He had gone back to eating the remainder of the pie.

“I don’t know how you feel about children, but I wouldn’t force you to be a parent if it’s not something you want. Same with financial support. I am perfectly capable of providing for him or her on my own.”

“And if I wanted to be a part of the pup’s life? Financially or otherwise? If I said yes, I mean.”

She smiled, “I would not object.”

“I’m not against it. Pups… Children… they’re never lacking for boredom. Ah, if I did decide to do this, and was a part of the pup’s life, what would be the living situation? Still neighbors?”

“Oh, I was actually still undecided about that. On the one hand, I’m sure you’d like your space. On the other, if you wanted to be a part of our lives, it might be better for you to live in the same house. Um, though, if we did that, I would insist on not bringing back...companions, not unless they are someone you are in a serious relationship with, of course. It will be difficult enough to explain why mommy and daddy aren’t married, and I would prefer to not confuse the child any more than necessary.”

“Makes sense, but I don’t really date, serious or otherwise. Tired of the dating scene, and too fucking old for one night stands,” he said.

“You’re not old,” she protested. She was twenty-six, and he was only seven years older than her, making him thirty-three. He shrugged it off.

“Why me though? You must know dozens of handsome young men eager to make a baby with you. Or just go to a sperm bank.”

She laughed softly. “Valid questions, but I don’t particularly _like_ any of those ‘handsome young men’ that I know. Oh, they’re nice enough, but they’re shallow and they wouldn’t _want_ a baby, just the connection that a baby would give them to me.”

“And I wouldn’t?”

“You’re the first person I’ve met in a very long while that doesn’t care about my family name. So, no, you wouldn’t abuse the connection. You’re also one of the few decent men I’ve known. You’re hardworking, strong of both body and mind, you have a certain code of honor that I do admire, even if your manners and language could use some work.” She gave him a grin that he returned.

“Fucking right.”

“And getting a donor from a sperm bank...it’s my last resort. I would prefer to have a child with someone I know, someone I trust. Like you. And you make me laugh, and I enjoy being around you. I even find you attractive,” she said shyly.

“You do?” he asked in surprise.

She nodded. “Yes. Though I realize I might not be your...um... _type…_ but we don’t have to physically couple if it’s easier for you. My brother’s wife is an OB/GYN, and can do artificial insemination. She gave me some pamphlets on it, but I had to make her promise to not tell my brother Robb about this.”

“Artificial insemination?” He didn’t look confused, just surprised.

“Well, we’ve never really talked about your… sexual orientation, so I didn’t want to assume you would _want_ to… well, _have sex_ with me. So I did look into other options.”

“You...think I’m gay?” The look on his face was one of utter shock.

“I honestly didn’t know what to think, but yes, the thought did occur to me that you might be. Like I said, I didn’t want to assume one way or the other.” He snorted in his laughter, and she could only give him a confused look. “Are you alright?”

“Fuck me sideways…” he said, still laughing. “Sorry, but that was too funny. I’m straight, little bird. Beric’s the gay one. The only cock I like is my own.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, as I said I didn’t want to assume…”

“It’s alright. I can see how you’d come to that conclusion. I don’t mind being your sperm donor. Hells, I _definitely_ don’t mind having sex with you.” She blushed at the thought. “Would have asked you out if I thought you were willing to go on a date with me. But little bird, this kind of favor…this is definitely a long term thing you’re asking. I would want to be in the kid’s life. I grew up without a father, wouldn’t want to do that to my own spawn. Do you think you can stand to have me around for the rest of your life?”

The corner of her mouth curled up into a smile. “I do. I can easily see you in my life five, ten, thirty years in the future. We’re friends, and you’re stuck with me as your friend for a good, long while.”

He studied her for a few moments, the fork he had been using was sticking out of his mouth. “Go out with me?”

Her eyes widened. “As in a date? Not as just friends?”

“Yeah. Ten dates. Full on exclusive, boyfriend and girlfriend type of dates, minus sex, and at the end of it, if you can still put up with me...consider marrying me.”

“Marriage?” She was in shock, but the butterflies she thought had long died fluttered in her stomach.

“Yeah,” he said, looking intently at the last piece of pie. “We’ve known each other, been friends with each other, for a while now, and if we have a kid together, if you find me...adequate… don’t you think it would be better for the kid if we were married? That would make a lot of things less complicated. Plus, you know, you’d get tax breaks, too,” he mumbled.

She stood up and walked around the table to stand next to him. He looked up at her, his eyes surprisingly open and vulnerable. “Ok,” she whispered, and leaned down to give him a soft kiss. “Ten dates.”

**********

“Sandor!” Sansa called out.

“In the living room!” he called back. “Trying to get the-- OW! Get back here, you little brat!”

A pair of feet came storming down the hallway, mad giggles fleeing from a very irate man. “Silas! Give me back my dignity!” The little boy giggled again and ducked behind his mother’s legs as Sandor appeared.

“Mummy! I tooked Daddy’s digney!” the boy squealed.

“Sweetie, you shouldn’t be mean to Daddy. What did we talk about yesterday?” she asked, scooping the four-and-a-half-year old up into her arms.

“Dat Daddy is ta be ruspucted.”

“And is taking Daddy’s dignity a way of respecting him?” she asked.

He scrunched up his face. “No?”

“That is correct. Now, apologize, give kisses goodnight and then off to bed with you. You have a big day tomorrow.” The boy sighed and planted a sloppy kiss on his mother’s cheek, then his father’s, muttering a half-hearted apology. She let him down and he raced off towards the bedrooms. They followed, reading him a bedtime story, and kissing him goodnight once he fell asleep.

“Cheeky little pup,” Sandor growled as he closed Silas’s door, but Sansa knew he didn’t really mean it.

“He’s just anxious about starting daycare,” she said, kissing her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck. “He’ll calm down once he sees how much fun it is.”

“He better. I’m at my wits end with him.” He wasn’t, not really, and Sansa knew he was just as anxious as Silas for their son’s first day tomorrow. “How’s Mina?”

“Fast asleep. Such an angel she is,” Sansa said. “Stranger’s curled up with her.” Their nearly two year old daughter was the complete opposite of Silas, and adored her older brother. Silas still proclaimed that he didn’t like having a sibling, but if pressed, he would say that Mina wasn’t terrible. Stranger had reservations about Silas, yet stuck to Mina like glue.

“And Peanut?” Sandor pressed his hand gently to her abdomen. Her baby bump hadn’t appeared yet, but the maester had confirmed her suspicions just last week. “Still can’t believe there’s a third one on the way.”

“Peanut is fine. It’s _Mommy_ that Daddy needs to worry about,” she said, leaning up to nip at his lips. “I have a favor to ask of you, husband.”

“A favor, you say?” His lips quirked up into a smile as he placed his hand on her waist. “You already got your pie’s worth of favors out of me.”

She laughed. He said it everytime. “The pie was only so that you’d _listen._ But you’ll like this favor, I promise.”

“Oh? And what is it?”

She pulled him down so that she could whisper in his ear. “I’ll give you a hint, it involves how our fifth date ended.” Their fifth date had ended in his bedroom, and the very next day they went down to the courthouse to marry. They had also moved from the two small houses to one larger house for their new family. Silas had been conceived about seven months after that, though not for lack of trying.

He growled and picked her up to carry her to their bedroom as she giggled. “Love you, grump,” she said.

He snorted, but she heard him whisper, “You, too, little bird.”


	19. Lass Kicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zip001 asked:  
> Another prompt for the new year - SanSan wrestling AU with Sansa being a wrestler and Sandor either a coach or fellow wrestler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> FELLOW WRESTLER, BECAUSE ROMAN FREAKING REIGNS. Seth would not be pleased with me for saying it like that, but I don't care. Dean probably wouldn't be too happy with me either. Meh. Lol

Sansa took a deep breath backstage. The crowd was just getting rowdy as Sandor, ring name Roman Reigns, battled Rusev for the United States Championship, waiting for Lana to inevitably mess with the match. The stage hand gave her the signal, and Sansa took off at sprint, her theme music being kept off as she ran down the ramp, and launched herself at Lana from behind, sending the Ravishing Russian to the mat just as she was about to hook Sandor's leg to trip him. Rusev saw his wife being attacked, and began screaming at Sansa. She knew it was just an act, but Rusev was _scary_ when he screamed. Kind of ugly, too.

Sandor had no idea what was going on behind him, but he used Rusev's distraction and speared him to the mat. The ref did a three count, and the crowd went wild, half booing, half cheering, especially when Sansa jumped into the ring to hug her man, then lift his arm up in victory. Sandor was confused, but couldn't stop smiling at her.

Rusev had rolled out of the ring, and was picking Lana up from the mat. The blonde woman was shrieking like a banshee in Russian, and as they got to the top of the ramp, a stagehand gave her a microphone.

"You dink you've _won,_ Alayne?" Lana screamed, her accent thickening as she spoke. "My husband is de ownly _trrue_ American he-rro. He. Will. _CRUSH_ yourr _pew-nee_ man."

Sansa had also been handed a microphone. "Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over Roman beating Rusev for the _fifth_ time running!" Sansa gave a cruel laugh like Jaime had taught her to. "You're out of chances, you're _done_. No more US Championship for you." Sansa smirked. "Oh, one last thing. If you think what I did to you makes _us_ even, you've got another thing coming. I already put in a request to Mick Foley for a match with you, so you better be ready."

**********

**Backstage**

"Oh my goodness, Lana," Sansa said, hugging her friend. "Are you ok? I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"

The Russian beauty shook her head. "Nah, I've been hit harder in practice." Her accent had switched back to her normal American one. "I was so nervous!"

"Me, too, and now we have a match and my heart is just..." She patted her chest like a bunny thumping the ground. "I might faint."

"You did great," Rusev said, holding an ice pack to his neck, his own accent not as thick as the one he used in the ring. "Both of you. And you'll be fine in your match."

Sandor slid his arm around her waist. She excused herself from Lana and Rusev, the blonde cooing over her burly husband, telling him how magnificent he looked out there. Sandor guided her down the hall, until they found a relatively quiet spot, and buried his face in her neck. Her arms went around him, holding him gently as she hummed a song.

Her long time boyfriend was well known for his tough, yet cocky attitude in the ring, but few saw him like this, needing to find some peace and quiet so he could recharge his energy. The persona she used in the ring was so unlike her, but the one he donned was physically taxing on him, his true personality being more stoic and gruff. "You ok?" she asked softly.

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah. The boos... they're getting worse..."

"I know, stud. I know... Not much to be done about it, I'm afraid. But hey, I know you're a great wrestler. We all do. And the fans are just...fans. They can't be controlled, no matter what Creative thinks."

"Sometimes I think I should just give in and ask to be in less shows. Do more as a supportive character, instead of a main one." His scarred cheek touched her smooth one. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"But you love wrestling..." she whispered. "The fans are idiots, the ones that boo you, anyway. Don't let them run you out. If you want to stop for any other reason, I won't argue with you, but if it's because of _them_ , then you are going to have a heck of an argument from me. You got that?"

He chuckled, nuzzling her. "Yes, ma'am."

"I'll ask to be put with you more often. Then you can just focus on me. Don't pay any attention to them, just me. Only me."

"Steph won't like that," he warned her. "She wants to set you up as a contender against Charlotte."

"I don't care. Bailey's a better choice, or Nia, or Summer, or... Paige is still on leave, but Alicia or Dana... Actually, I would love to see Nia go after Charlotte," she said with a smile.

"You could be the Raw Women's Champion," he argued.

"I don't want it," she countered. "I just want to be with you. I just like having fun in the ring. Being a primary character isn't a priority for me. You know that."

"Okay..." he whispered, breathing a little easier. "Okay."


	20. Baby Daddy Cont.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lalelilolusworld: I somewhat want more of [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9484619/chapters/21464054) universe.

Sansa held the wiggly two year old as she sat in Maester Luwin's office. She had taken the day off just to come see him. "You're sure?" she asked him. "One hundred percent?"

He nodded. "I am." He leaned down to tickle baby Silas. "It'll be fine, Mrs. Clegane."

"I hope so."

**********

"Good day, Grump?" she asked her husband when he walked in. He grinned at her, but was interrupted before he could say anything.

"Doddy!!" Silas squealed from his high chair. He threw his bowl of Cheerios across the kitchen, nearly hitting Stranger, who was sitting at Sansa's feet as she washed dishes. Stranger hid behind Sansa's legs, then when he felt it was safe, started eating the Cheerios off the floor.

"Hey, pup," Sandor said, ruffling their child's hair. "Did you work hard today?"

"Up, doddy! Up!" Silas reached for his father.

"I dunno," Sandor said, looking at the dog eating the Cheerios. "You made a mess. And I can't pick you up if I have to clean this."

"Nuuuuuuuu doddy! I clean! Dun. I go dun." Silas pointed to the floor. Sandor looked over at Sansa, who nodded. Sandor unclipped the high chair table and let their son down to the floor. Silas waddled over to the bowl, righted it, then carefully picked up one Cheerio at a time and put it in the bowl. Stranger, not one to let opportunity go, went around Silas and ate the Cheerios he put in the bowl.

"My day was decent. And how are you, little bird?" he asked, kissing her on her forehead.

"Been better," she admitted. "I need to talk to you tonight."

"Important?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, but not dire. It can wait until after supper."

**********

Silas had fought sleep, but he was finally down in his crib. Stranger was curled at the end of their bed, already asleep. "What's up?" Sandor asked as she walked out of the bathroom and got into bed.

"I went to the doctor today."

He nodded. "You've been feeling ill lately."

"Yeah... turns out... not ill." She pressed her lips together. "Pregnant."

His eyes widened. "Pregnant?"

She twiddled her thumbs. When she had first approached him to be the father of her child, they had only agreed on _one_ child. Or rather, they hadn't talked about having more than one. She knew he was wary of siblings, considering his own, monstrous brother, but it had just sort of happened. They were usually pretty careful about birth control. "Remember two months ago, we finally had a few days to ourselves?"

"The weekend your parents took Silas? Oh yeah, I remember that. Wasn't sure I'd be able to walk by the time Monday rolled around." He grinned at her and she blushed. It _had_ been a fantastically sexy weekend.

"Um, so... I may have overlooked taking my pills for a few days. And, really, what were the odds, you know?"

Sandor snorted, but he was still smiling. "So another pup?"

She nodded. "Yeah...I'm sorry?"

He shook his head. "Don't be. We've never really talked about it, but," he leaned over and kissed her softly, "If you want more children, then I'm all for it. I'm here to make you happy, to be your sex toy, to be your sperm donor..." She smacked him. "Which I'm more than happy to be," he stressed. "But most of all, I want you to be happy and not have any regrets about marrying me. Our relationship didn't exactly start normally, but I... I love you. And I'm happy there's another one on the way. Never thought I'd have one kid, or even a wife. But I had hoped, which is why we bought such a big house, even if I did tell you it was for the kitchen. For fuck's sake, woman, we have seven bedrooms!"

"Oh, Grump," she said, kissing him. He was babbling a little, but she hasn't missed it. It was the first time he had said _that_ to her, despite being married for two, nearly three years now. "I love you, too."

He smiled. "I know. So are you happy about a second pup?"

She grinned so broadly, she thought her face might fall off. She had been worrying so much about how he would react, she hadn't really had time to process her own feelings. "Yes! So very happy!"


	21. Prom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sansanfan97 said: A prompt popped into my head and won't leave! The boyfriend of 18 year old high school senior Sansa cheats and breaks up with her right before prom. She decides not to go at all. Sandor (aged 21 to 23) is a friend of Jon who finds out what happened, shows up on prom night and convinces her to go with him as her date. Bonus if he's had a crush on her for a while. Double bonus if he punches her exboyfriend in the face.

Both Sandor and Jon jumped a mile when the bedroom door next to Jon's slammed shut and then looked at each other with concern when they heard the muffled scream, followed by sobbing. "Uh...should we... should we check on her?" Jon asked him.

"Fuck if I know. She's your sister, man."

Jon sighed. "I'll go call Mom. Might take awhile if you want to go get some snacks."

Sandor left while Jon got on the phone to reach Mrs. Stark. Jon was still on the phone when Sandor got back to the room, so he milled about in the hallway, though he could hear Jon's sister better from there. Since Jon didn't look like the phone conversation was going to stop anytime soon, he tentatively knocked on the bedroom door. The sobbing stopped and a few moments later, the door opened slowly, a tear stained eye looking out at him. "Yes?"

"Hey, little bird..." Sandor said. He only kind of knew her from hanging out with Jon, but she seemed really nice. "So...noticed you were upset..."

"I didn't think anyone was home..." she said softly, looking down at the ground. "Sorry..."

"No, no, it's... it's fine. Jon and I were just...uh, concerned, you know? Would you like to join us? We're watching a movie. Just finished up our homework and were just... hanging out..." He felt like a mess, but he had had a crush on her since meeting her.

"What movie? Is it something...violent?" Was it his imagination, or did she _want_ the movie to be violent?

"Well, kind of, but we can switch it to something else. It's RED, and then maybe RED 2..."

"Ok, I wouldn't mind seeing that..." She was playing with her hair. "Um, I can make some popcorn? If you haven't already?"

"We've got a shit ton of snacks actually. So, you ready?"

"Yeah..." She wiped her face with her hand.

**********

Sandor had no idea what was happening in the movie. Sansa was leaning on him, having claimed that he was comfy like a pillow, her arm hooked around his, her hand reaching in between his thighs to get handfuls of popcorn from the bowl resting there. _Damnit, Jon, why did you make me sit in the middle?!_ Seriously, how could he be expected to remember anything in that situation? Jon was laughing his ass off whenever he looked over at them, and had even suggested he might leave the room to go call his girlfriend for an hour or five. So much death glare at his friend, who found that even funnier and laughed all the harder.

Jon _knew_ Sandor had a crush on Sansa, but Sansa had been in a relationship since before he had even met Jon, almost six months ago. He had never had a chance, though he probably wouldn't have had a chance even if she _was_ single.

"So, you wanna talk about it?" Jon asked her once the movies were over.

She shrugged, still leaning on Sandor. "Well, it's... just... Joffrey broke up with me..."

"What? Why?" Jon frowned. "He did that huge, stupid promposal for you last month! So over the top, dragging all of us into it. And now--"

"Now we're not dating," she interrupted, "and he's taking someone else. Whatever. We haven’t even really gone out in a while... Tired of his bull anyway."

"What are you going to do about prom? It's this weekend."

"Not going to go. Duh."

**********

"Can't believe the shit that guy put her through," Jon said as he walked Sandor to his car. Sansa had bid them both a goodnight not long after talking to them, though Sandor had wished she had stayed a bit longer. "None of us ever liked him, but we put up with it since she was happy. Seemed happy... Half a mind to go get Robb and track that jerk down. She'd kill us though. And to top it all off, she's been looking forward to prom since freshman year!"

"Seriously?"

Jon nodded. "She loves dressing up for no reason. This dance gave her a reason. You can imagine how excited she was when she found out. Not much to be done about it."

Sandor frowned. It wasn't right. This Joffrey punk probably didn't even care about the dance. It was most likely just another excuse to get rowdy. And Sansa had been looking forward to it for so long...

"Maybe I could take her."

Jon's eyebrows went up. "You'd do that? I know I tease you about liking her and all, but--"

"It's not like I have anything better to do, and you said she's been wanting to go for four years... If she doesn't mind, I wouldn't either." Sandor shrugged, feeling nervous.

"Can you even dance? She likes to dance. A lot."

Sandor glowered at his friend. "I can dance. Not a pro or anything, but I won't make a fool of her or myself. So... Think she'd be ok with me taking her?"

"She's not opposed to you," Jon said, considering. "I'd even go as far as saying she trusts you, seeing how she was leaning on you during both movies. Yeah, I think she would go if you ask her. If she doesn't, it would be more of a testament to how awful she's feeling and not because she's rejecting you. Ok, the dance is tomorrow, if you can get a tux, great, but a nice, dark suit would work just as well. Doubt you can get a corsage, but if you can match her dress, that would be cool. She's got a dark green dress. Very elegant."

"Ok, I can do this."

"Of course you can," Jon said with a smile.

**********

Sandor stood at the Stark's door and rang the doorbell, clutching a handmade corsage in his hand. He hadn't been able to get one from the store. Jon had promised to make sure Sansa would be the one to answer the door. It swung open to reveal a very comfortable looking little bird, dressed in flannel pajamas. "Sandor? Wh-- Why are you dressed like that?" she stammered. He had worn his only good suit, a black one, with a matching black shirt, but with a dark green tie.

"Little bird, Sansa, I am here to take you to prom, if you don't mind going with someone like me." He held out the corsage, a blue orchid that had reminded him of her eyes.

"You want to take me to prom?" she asked, taking the corsage in bewilderment. "Why?"

"Jon said you had been looking forward to it for so long, and it just really fucking sucks that you're not going to go because of that prick Joffrey." She laughed at that. "Even _I_ went to prom. It would be a shame if you, someone who was looking forward to it, didn't go."

"Well, it wouldn't take me long to get ready... if you don't mind waiting for me to get pretty," she said, stepping out of the doorway to let him in.

"You could wear a potato sack and still look beautiful," he said honestly. She laughed, blushing a little, then went upstairs to change.

**********

The dance was held at Baratheon Towers, per school tradition. Sandor had been nervous before, but in the presence of the other students, he was downright terrified. Here he was, a twenty-three year old among a bunch of teenagers, and standing out even more because of his messed up face. The only reason he didn't turn tail and run was because Sansa was counting on him. That, and he really wanted to dance at least once with her. He figured that she'd probably end up dancing with a lot of the guys who hadn't had a shot previously because of her ex-boyfriend, but here she was, single and ready to mingle and he had the privilege of escorting her.

She held onto his arm as they walked around, greeting various people, chatting with her friends. He stood proudly at her side, a silent sentry to keep the asshole ex away.

"Ohmygosh, Sansa, you look wonderful!" a brunette girl squealed. "Joffrey will rue the day he dumped you!"

Her hand tensed in his. "So, yesterday, Jeyne?"

"Oh...yes... He will rue yesterday! Um...about the girl he...um..." The brunette was a sinking ship, flailing and only going down faster for her efforts, already flummoxed by her misstep a few moments ago.

"Just spit it out, girl," Sandor growled. "What's got your brain in a twist?"

Jeyne looked at him, startled, then back at Sansa. "I’m so sorry, Sansa... I found out who Joffrey was cheating on you with. Myranda Royce. We always wondered why she suddenly wanted to hang out, but none of us ever suspected it was because of Joffrey!"

Sandor rolled his eyes. Sansa's grip on his arm was firm, as if she was using him as an anchor.

"It's alright," she said softly, just barely audible over the music. "I think I would like to dance now, Sandor, if you feel up to it."

A slow song had just started, one Sandor felt comfortable with, so he lead her out to the dance floor. "Joffrey's an idiot, you know," he told her.

"Why's that?"

"Breaking up with someone like you, it's not right."

She looked up at him, giving him an amused smile. "Well, I suppose we did make a good looking couple..."

"No, not that," he said, shaking his head. "I know I don't know you that well, but...just seeing you around your family, around your friends, the reception you've had just in this crowd, our few interactions...you're a really good person. Kind, generous... He should have loved you, not...not cheat on you."

She laughed softly. "Maybe. But...maybe it's for the best. I haven't felt that...that _connection_ in a while. I'm not sure I ever truly did." She sighed. "And I want to. I want to _feel_ that connection, to know that I am cherished, to cherish that person...to be in a good relationship, and not feel like I'm an accessory, like a handbag or sunglasses, you know?"

"Not really, but I can imagine that's not a good feeling to have."

"No, not a bit." She smiled a little brighter. "I'm really glad you asked me to come. I was just so angry with Joffrey, with myself, and I was ready to give up on a nice night out just to spite him. So...thank you, Sandor. I just wish--"

"Well, stop the presses," a voice said. Sandor and Sansa both turned to find a blond boy staring at them, his arm around a brunette whose cleavage was threatening to spill out of her dress. He assumed this was the prick Joffrey by the way Sansa tensed, meaning the girl dressed like a hooker must be Myranda. "I cannot believe you actually showed up."

"Why wouldn't I? I have just as much right to be here as anyone else," Sansa replied icily. "I would dare say I was looking forward to tonight much more than you ever were."

"Probably. I'm just here to get my groove on and tap this ass," he said, slapping Myranda's rump. The idiot giggled at the attention. "I just didn't think you'd be desperate enough to bring Cujo as your date. What'sa matter, couldn't get one of your brothers to bring you? At least they're handsome enough to not offend the general public."

Sandor growled. He was used to being ridiculed, but he wouldn't let it be at Sansa's expense.

"At least Sandor doesn't look like he needs to visit the free clinic on a weekly basis," Sansa muttered under her breath. Neither Joffrey nor Myranda heard her, though Sandor snorted a laugh. Louder, she said, "If you're done, I would like to continue enjoying myself. There's plenty of dance floor. We'll move if you're set on this particular space."

"Tch... Bitch..." Joffrey sneered. He started to guide Myranda away. "Worst lay I ever had, like a cold, dead fish--"

Sandor's eyes couldn't track the movement, but the next thing he knew, Joffrey was falling backward, his face contorting from the balled up fist that had hit him in the jaw.

 _"Who'd want to have sex with your teeny, weeny, limp dick?!"_ Sansa screamed at him. "You selfish, egotistical asshole! You never made me even the tiniest bit horny! You think being rich is sexy?! It's not! Not when you have a rotten attitude and the romance skills of a half-dead snail!"

"What is going on here?!" an older woman demanded, walking up to them with determination.

"Mrs. Tyrell... Ah... Uh... That boy hit Joffrey!" Myranda said, pointing at Sandor.

"Hey!"

"Ms. Royce, I may be old, but I would appreciate if you at least _respected_ the fact that you are in front of the entirety of the senior class, and that everyone saw what just happened. Ms. Stark, if you would like to ice your knuckles, I would suggest you get your date to retrieve a cold compress for you." The woman glared at Sandor, who looked down at Sansa's hand and saw that it was red and slightly swollen.

"Ah, right... I'll... I'll be right back." He hightailed it over to the buffet that was set up on the side wall of the event hall. It didn't take long to grab one of the fancy cloth napkins and load it up with ice. Returning to Sansa's side, he took her hand in his, gently placing the cold pack on her injured hand. She winced, but did not complain.

"Now that we have that taken care of, and something of a reasonable explanation... Ms. Stark, I will have to ask you to keep away from Mr. Baratheon. Same for you, Mr. Baratheon, Ms. Royce. Stay away from Ms. Stark and her companion. If you don't, you will be asked to leave, and you will be barred from the remainder of the dance, as well as graduation."

"If it's all the same, I'd like to leave," Sansa whispered to him as they walked away from the dance floor, a dark look on her face. "I know we just arrived, but..."

"It's fine. Tonight is your night, I am at your whim."

She looked at him in surprise, then laughed. "Well, if you insist. How about we go to a nice restaurant? I know a great place, and it's my treat."

"I can--"

She held her finger to his lips to silence him. "My whim, remember?" she said, winking at him. He smiled and nodded, following her out of the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I didn't go for the last bonus, but c'mon! Sansa hitting Joffrey is pretty satisfying. She finally gets to snap at him.


	22. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asks:  
> Fic prompt: Sansa and Sandor meet again for the first time after a painful break-up. FEELINGS. Lust. Anger. Sadness. Love. Happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of feel like I did this prompt already with Lost Remote (one shot, not a Tumblr prompt), but I tried.

"You did WHAT!?"

"Sansa..."

"No, don't you 'Sansa' me! How could you!?"

He shook his head. Why couldn't she understand? If she didn’t understand, he couldn’t hope she would say yes to the ring in his pocket. "I did this for us..."

Her blue eyes were cold as she glared at him. "Don't you dare... This wasn't for _us_ ," she hissed. "If it was, you would have told me about it, asked my opinion. Instead you purposely went behind my back. No, this wasn't for us. This was for _you_."

"Little bird..."

"No. I'm not letting you make excuses. We're through, Sandor." She walked to the door 

"You said you loved me. No matter what!"

Sansa stopped and turned. "I do. And that's why I'm leaving."

In a fit of temper, he threw his cellphone against the wall, breaking it into several pieces.

**********

**2 years later**

Sandor walked into the dive bar, removing his sunglasses and looking around. It stank of stale beer and cheap sex. He looked and felt out of place in his custom tailored suit, a requisite of his job. The few customers glanced at him warily but made no comments. He sat at the bar, waiting for the bartender to make themselves known. His target was known to frequent the place, all Sandor had to do was sit and wait.

A woman walked up to him, red hair catching his notice, but when he looked, he saw it wasn't her. The hair color wasn't the right shade, it was curly instead of straight, and the face was not the one he missed. 

"What can I get for ya, sailor?" she asked with a grin. 

"Light beer."

"Anything else I can get you?" she asked, letting her gaze drift slowly downward as she licked her lips.

He was not amused, and despite not being with anyone since Sansa left him, he was not interested. Yet, it wouldn't do to alienate the woman, seeing as how she was in charge. "Another time, perhaps. I'm waiting on a friend." He gave her a false smile.

"I look forward to it." She winked at him and got him his beer. 

Not many people came and went as he sat at the bar, nursing the bottle of beer. He watched the game someone had put on the extremely old large screen TV, keeping an eye on the door. Finally, after three hours, the man he expected walked through the door. 

"Ygritte! You are a sight for sore eyes," Jon said with a grin. 

"Snow. You're looking...well," but she was grinning. The two were practically fucking each other with the looks being exchanged. Sandor coughed to bring Jon's attention to him. 

"Clegane," he said, not even half as chipper as he had been for Ygritte. "What are you doing here?"

Sandor retrieved the small package from his pocket. "Delivery. A bribe from the Lannisters."

"Shouldn't you at least pretend it's a gift?" Jon asked, taking it. 

Sandor snorted. "Why? We both know the old lion is trying to get on your good side now that you and Robb took over the company."

"Doubt this will help, but I'm sure I'll find a good use for it, even if it means pawning it." Jon sat next to him. "Been a while since I've seen you. Since you quit Stark Enterprises. Job worth it?"

"Making more money than I ever thought possible."

Jon laughed. "But is it worth it? I know what it cost you."

Sandor downed the last of his beer. "Something a bit stronger, if you don't mind," he told Ygritte. If Jon wanted to talk about the love of Sandor's life, he needed something better than light beer.

Jon watched him thoughtfully. "She's doing well. If you're interested. Dad promoted her to head of marketing before he retired. She and Robb are taking the company in a new direction. Fantastic time to be at S.E."

"Good to hear."

"Is it Sansa you're talking about?" Ygritte asked, pouring two fingers of scotch for Sandor. "How's her wee one? Celebrating a birthday soon, or did it pass already? I forget."

Sandor froze. "Sansa... has a kid?"

Jon frowned at Ygritte, but said, "Yeah. Cute little bugger. He'll be a year old in a few months."

Almost a year. A quick calculation, and Sandor's heart sank. No way it could be his child. He had held out hope that someday Sansa would come back to him, but now... "She married then?"

Must have been quick, not long after she left him. Bitterness filled his heart. She should have been his wife. That should have been his child. All he wanted was to be able to provide her with the things she deserved. So what if he had made a deal with the devil? So what if he had left her family's company to work for their rivals? He made _twice_ the amount he previously did and was able to lavish her with expensive things, fine clothing, jewelry, a penthouse, dining at five star restaurants...but she wasn't around. And the wealth he had accumulated was sitting in his bank account, doing not much more than his previous income had done, while he had gone from the nice apartment to one closer to work, and considerably more rundown. Once Sansa had left, he hadn't cared if he lived in squalor, he just couldn't live in _that_ apartment anymore, surrounded by the now painful memories of their time together. The apartment where she first kissed him, where they first told exchanged "I love you"s, where they made love for the first time. The only thing nicer about him these days was his clothing, and that was because his employer insisted on it.

Sandor threw back the scotch, embracing the pain as it burned its way down his throat. "Good for her. Lucky man to have gotten her good graces."

"She didn't marry," Jon said. "Single mom. Didn't quite get over you, I suppose." Sandor could feel Jon's stare. "Have you seen her since?"

"No." He motioned Ygritte to pour him another.

"Why not?"

"She left and never came back. Not about to grovel. May be a wreck of a man, but even I have my pride." He threw that drink back just as quickly as the first and demanded another .

Jon sighed. "Why didn't you go see her? None of us understood why you turned your back on us. On her."

"I did it because of her. To make our lives better. Fat lot of good it did. Left me, went and fucked some guy who left her with a kid, and still didn't come back."

"Would you have taken her back, in that situation?" Jon seemed amused. 

"She's the best thing that ever happened to me. Kid or not, would have been just happy to see her again." He stared down at his drink. _Why am I still here? Should just leave, get back to work..._ He slung it back, the burn not as bad as previously, and Ygritte immediately filled it again.

"She tried, but you had moved, changed your number..." He had ended up getting a new phone from his job, whole new number, and hadn't gotten his previous phone number transferred or copied or whatever it was they did with phones. It hadn't seemed important, not when Sansa wasn't talking to him anyway. Or when he thought she'd never talk to him again. He hadn't considered that he might have shut off ways for her to reach him if she changed her mind. His little bird could be quite stubborn, after all. "And she wasn't about to go to Lannister Corp. She felt shut out already, she wasn't about to go into the lion's den. So how come you never went to see her? She still lives in the house. She was angry with you for a long while, but she missed you all the same. Might still be angry, now that I think about it, but less about what you did, and more for the fact that you haven't tried to reach out, mend that fence."

His grip on the glass tightened. "I didn't do _anything_ wrong. I took a job, a better job, one that would give us a better life."

"Do you really not see it?" Jon asked softly. "I mean, I get that you've had a different life growing up than we did, but can you really not see how much you hurt her by betraying her family? By going with the Lannisters of all people?"

"But I didn't betray her--"

"You did," Jon pressed. "Family is everything to Sansa, to all of us. Turning your back on the family means turning your back on her."

"Family," Sandor scoffed, drinking the scotch and ordering another. "What good is family. They're not there for you, not when you need it..."

"Did you never intend to marry her?" Jon asked. "Answer me truthfully." Another drink gone, another one poured.

"'Course I did...why I took the job...so we's could...so I could ashk her..." He drank again, a little slower, but it was gone all the same, quickly refilled by the helpful bartender.

"Wouldn't that make her your family?" Jon asked softly. "And when you marry a Stark, you marry their parents and siblings as well."

Sandor didn't say anything. His head felt mushy. _How many drinks...? Been while since I drank at all..._ He tried to count, but knocked back the last one instead, and slammed some cash on the bar.

He found himself walking outside, his arm raising to hail a taxi, thinking about what Jon had said. _Was I wrong?_ He was in no condition to drive. _Have to come back for the car later..._ He gave the driver the address for home and told him there was some extra money that could be made if he got there quickly. _Family...Gregor...damn him...not family... Sansa... the Starks... Stark family... good people... stark people...  
_

The ride only took a few minutes, or maybe it was an hour. He couldn't be sure since he fell asleep and the cabby had to wake him up. He gave the man the extra money anyway and walked up to the door, keys out and ready to unlock it. His vision was blurry, and he fumbled a lot, finally dropping the keys onto the ground.

"Ov curse," he mumbled and thunked his hard head against the frame of the door. "Los mah girrl, los ma sennity, losh ma happness...fur wut? Furr idjits lyin' loins...lyuns." He touched his warm hand to the cool glass of the window pane, the blue lace curtains on the other side reminding him of Sansa's eyes. "S'not what I wunted..."

_What did you want?_

"Ta giv lil bird better lyf... fuun-sheh things..."

 _Fancy things don't make people happy. It's the things you can't buy, those small moments, shared with someone you love, that's what makes people truly happy._ _Was that not enough?_

Sandor sniffed, a burning wetness running down his cheeks. "E'was... E'wash enuffs... Me... I'wushn 'nuff... shesh the besht ding ever...en I los 'er. I shuck."

_You don't suck. Maybe you should lie down._

"Dor'snot... Oh..." The door was open. He walked inside slowly and collapsed on the couch, falling asleep within moments.

**********

He woke to the sounds of typing. His head hurt, unused to drinking as he once used to. He moaned and shifted from his place on the couch. The typing stopped and he heard soft footsteps.

"You're awake."

He turned his head, red locks coming into view. "Little bird..."

"You slept a while," she said, kneeling in front of him. Her face had changed in the two years since he had last seen her. It was softer, a bit tired, but no less lovely. "It's morning."

"Morn-- Fuck!" He shot up, then gripped his head in pain. "Fuck..." he whispered.

He heard her sigh and then a glass of water and some aspirin was handed to him. He downed them gratefully. "You're lucky Alex isn't here, or I'd box your ears for cursing in front of him. Mom took him last night. Ah, she didn't know you were here, in case you were wondering. 

He had not been wondering, but he suddenly remembered what Jon had told him. _Shit... that's right...she has a kid... wait..._ "How'd I get here? I went home..."

"A cab dropped you off yesterday. You must have given my address instead of your place. You stumbled to the door, right past Alex and me, couldn't get inside and then you started talking." She shook her head. "I'll make you some breakfast. You should call work if you need to. Do you need to use the shower?"

"N-no, I'm fine... I'll just...call in now..."

She nodded and left the room. Sandor looked around, finding his coat folded neatly on the chair next to the couch and pulled out his phone. Seven missed calls. He checked the ringer, and found he had put it on silent, probably during the cab ride. He listened to the ringing in his ear as he contemplated what had happened. _I told the cab to take me home, and I end up here..._

_"Lannister Corporation, how may I direct your call?"_

"Tywin Lannister."

_"One moment, please."_

The line buzzed, and then Tywin's secretary answered. _"Tywin Lannister's office, how may I help you?"_

"Sherry, it's Clegane..."

_"Clegane! Where are you?? The boss is demanding your presence--"_

"I got sick." He looked over at the kitchen door. He couldn't see her, but he knew she was in there. "Still sick." That wasn't a lie, he felt like death warmed over. _What the hell kind of scotch did that bartender give me?_

_"Oh...oh dear... Are you sure? Mr. Lannister really needs you to come in today. Eddard Stark is visiting, and you're needed to--"_

He sighed, listening to Sherry drone on a bit. He gave her a few words before hanging up. Carefully, he rose and made his way over to the kitchen. "Can I change my mind about that shower?" he asked.

Sansa turned. "Sure. Some of your things are still here. I'll lay them out for you. The guest bathroom has been having some issues lately, so you'll have to use mine. I hope that's ok."

"It's fine..."

Half an hour later, he was seated at the kitchen table, feeling much better. It was surreal, being back in this house. It was the little changes that threw him. The baby chair next to Sansa's usual spot. The bottles in the drying rack. The baby proofing. So. Much. Baby proofing. _Figures she'd go overboard with that._ There were baby spoons, baby forks, baby bowls, what looked like an emergency diaper station in the corner, lots of bibs... There had been a lot of baby toys in the living room where he had slept, a crib in the room next to Sansa's, decorated in dinosaurs and airplanes, lots of little clothing that was being folded into a basket. _Things have changed while staying the same._ She still had pictures of the two of them up around the place. He was surprised there weren't any of her son. She still hummed as she cooked, tapping her foot along to the beat.

"How is it?" she asked, setting a cup of coffee next to his partially eaten plate.

"S'good." He swallowed the food in his mouth. "Just like always. Maybe even better."

She smiled. "I try."

"Saw Jon yesterday."

"Did you? That's nice. Have a good chat?" She sipped from her own mug.

"Yeah."

They fell into silence as he finished his food. It was odd how comfortable he felt, despite how long it had been since he saw her last. She still drove him to madness with those innocent looks of hers. That playful little smile she gave him, like she might be happy that he was there. _Why did I wait so long..._ He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to make her moan, make her come undone, make her beg for release, make her cry his name out like she had done so many times before. He wondered if she wanted it to, wanted him. He could see it already, clearing the table and taking her on top of it, or fucking her from behind over the kitchen counter. They had been making bread together the last time, when one thing led to another... He almost smiled at the memory.

 _She liked to fuck on the couch, too... with the heavy curtains drawn back, but the sheer curtains closed...little exhibitionist,_ he thought fondly. They had often sat together on the couch, talking, kissing, sometimes paying attention to the TV. Or the times he had shown her how to fix up the house, be it carpentry, or plumbing or just putting a picture up. He remembered how she often roped him into doing chores, despite the fact that he didn't live there, yet he was always happy to help, since they did them together. _Small moments..._

Once he was finished, he saw that Sansa was about to say something, but he cleared his throat and spoke first, just in case she was about to ask him to leave. "Sansa... I think... I mean... I have to say... I have to apologize...for leaving Stark Enterprises, for not telling you I was even considering it, for staying away for so long... I don't know if you can forgive me, but... I would... I would really, really like to come back... to be with you again... if I can...I love you. I never stopped."

Sansa was looking at him thoughtfully. "It's not just me though...Alex... he's a handful. A lot like his father in that way. I still love you, Sandor, but I have to consider him before myself. Being with me means being a father to him."

His jaw clenched, angry at the man who had had the little bird, knocked her up, and then wasn't there for the child he had helped create. "I've never had much experience with kids, but I'll learn. I'll make myself useful."

She laughed a little. "I don't need you to just _be useful._ I need you to be here, to be a parent. It's a tough job. And then there's the matter of why I left in the first place..."

He lowered his gaze. "I was wrong to take that job. I just wanted... I thought that if I could prove I could take care of you, that would be enough. But it wasn't. I shouldn't have turned my back on your family. They're a part of you, I see that now. Family...it's a foreign concept to me, you know that, but... I want to be a part of that, to be your family..." He took a deep breath. "I quit my job. When I called in... Tywin never wanted me for my skills, as good as I am and with as much as I contributed to the company. He just wanted me there to needle at your father, at the company in general. I've hated working there this entire time... He promised me that I would be able to provide you with the lifestyle you _deserved_ , but I never even considered if it was a lifestyle you _wanted_. Looking around here... You're happy, and I should have seen that we could have been happy together. I want to be here, with you, with Alex, to be a part of this family, with your mom and dad, all your crazy siblings... I am so sorry, San--"

She was up and out of her seat, pressing her lips to his frantically. In between kisses, she said, "Sandor... yes, yes, you can come back. Please, come back. Move in, marry me, be my husband, be Alex's father. I can get you your job back, if that's what you want. Or you can do something else... Gods, I've missed you so much...you have no idea...I wanted to kiss you so badly..."

"Sansa..." Words failed him as she continued to kiss him.

"Sandor...I love you, I love you so much. I never stopped... I've missed you so much." She ground herself down onto his lap. "Please...Sandor...the bedroom..."

How could he say no to her? How could he have ever let her leave?

**********

The afternoon sun warmed their bare limbs as they lay on her bed, completely spent from hours of lovemaking. _Our bed,_ he thought to himself. She fit so perfectly against him. He had missed this, more than he had let himself admit previously.

"My mom should be here soon to drop off Alex," Sansa said, her fingers tracing invisible patterns through his chest hair. "She'll be thrilled you're back, though she may lecture you a bit at first. My father and brothers will give you a hard time, but only Arya will definitely try to punch you."

He had seen the wolf girl a few months back, and she _had_ tried to punch him. At least this time, he would be prepared and dodge better. "I'll accept any punishment your family has for me," he said softly.

She giggled. "Mmhmm... I know you will." She turned to face him, pushing herself up a bit. "Sandor... I'm not completely blameless in this, and I should have said this sooner, before..."

She blushed, and he knew she meant before they had gotten naked and fucked. He had some scratches on his back and chest due to how backed up she was, and she had love bites on her neck and tits, and the beginnings of some bruises on her hips and inner thighs from his own frantic passions. He was half surprised the neighbors hadn't called the cops on them.

"I... um... I've kept a secret from you. A big one. And I understand that you have every right to be angry with me, but...I had my reasons, selfish though they were." She bit her lip.

"Just tell me, little bird. Close your eyes if you have to." He brushed some strands of hair behind her ear. "Is it about Alex's father?" He tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. He didn't want to hear about the man who had been with the little bird and left her.

"Yes... I don't know if you noticed, but there's no pictures up of Alex. I took them down while you were asleep. The thing is... he's... he's yours. Ours. He's our son."

Sandor blinked, momentarily frozen in shock. "Wh-- How?!"

Sansa cocked her head to the side. "Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much--"

He growled at her. "I know how babies are made, Sansa! I mean, how can he be my son? Before today, we hadn't had sex in...in more than two years! Your kid is less than a year old, so unless you froze some of my sperm without telling me--"

"I would never do that!" she shot back at him. "And Alex is a year and a half! _You_ are the only person able to be his father! I haven't slept with anyone else!"

"A year and a... Jon said his first birthday was coming up!"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Figures... He knew I didn't want you to know just yet. He lied, Sandor."

He frowned. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

She looked over at him. "I didn't find out until after we split. I was still very angry at you. By the time he was born, I was mostly over that anger, but I didn't understand how you could do what you did, betray me like that, betray my family... and then when you moved, changed your number... I had to wonder if you had loved me at all. I'm sorry, but I did think that. And...if you didn't love me... I know you, Sandor... You would have insisted on being in his life, which I wasn't opposed to, but I also knew you would insist on getting married. How could I tell you, thinking that you might not love me, and would only ask me to marry you to give Alex a father? It broke my heart to leave you, Sandor, but I would be damned if it broke again because of that. I would have said no, if you had asked me for his sake and his sake alone, though I would never have fought you being a part of his life." Sansa sat up, the tension in her body evident to his unpracticed eye. Sandor could see the changes the pregnancy had made on her body. _Still as beautiful as ever,_ he thought. _More so now, actually._ She was a mother now, and there was a beauty to that. _Mother of our child._

He should have been there for her. He should have been the one to hold her hair back during her morning sickness, to make midnight runs to the grocery store to fight her cravings, to rub her feet and back when the job of carrying the life they had created together had been too tiring on her body. _I did this to myself... to her... I shouldn't have..._ There were so many things he would have done differently, if he had a second chance. He suspected she felt the same, by the way she was holding herself, but they didn't have a second chance to redo things. Only an opportunity to let go of past hurts and move forward. He did not want to let that slip through their fingers.

"I would have told you...eventually...if you hadn't come by," she said quietly. "I set a deadline for myself, to try and approach you again, even if I had to go to Lannister Corp to find you in person... I was going to try to resolve our relationship one last time, and if we still couldn't... I hated not being able to tell you. I hated that you weren't here. I missed you so much, but I couldn't risk my heart again, not when Alex healed it. I knew you would love him, but... I needed to know...that you loved me for me or if you didn't any longer, and then I would tell you about him... I have nothing to gain from keeping it a secret."

She had forgiven him, and it was more than easy to return it. "It's ok, Sansa. I... I get it. I really do... I was angry, too, spiteful even, blocking contact with you, when I should have been trying to make it work between us. Part of it was unintentional, but I knew you hadn't moved, I had your number memorized--"

The doorbell rang, startling both of them. "That would be Mom...you can stay in here, I'll be right back." Sansa threw on some clothing and a robe before rushing to answer the door.

Sandor could hear Sansa and Catelyn talk a bit, then heard the sounds of Catelyn leaving. He dressed in the clothing Sansa had found for him earlier, and went out into the living room. Sansa was holding Alex in her arms.

She turned to him and then smiled down at the baby. No wonder she had removed photos of him. Just one glance and Sandor could see the Clegane side of him. "Alex, you remember Daddy, don't you? I told you all about him. He's come back to us. Do you want to say hi?" The baby gurgled happily. She looked over at Sandor. "Do you?"

He nodded, and walked over to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited on 1/15/2017 9:08pm CST


	23. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluen asks: According to the books of A Song Of Ice And Fire (I will not read the released chapters, until they come as the next book), Sansa will gain a lot of sexual knowledge from Myranda Royce, but only the theoretical side of it, as she has no pratical experience.
> 
> Sandor, on the other hand, has quite some practical experience, but if Varys' statement about "whoring" is correct, his only knowledge about sex is how to get whores to give him, what he wants.
> 
> I imagine a future in which they are both safe in Winterfell and Sansa has decided to either marry Sandor or take him as her lover.
> 
> My request is for the situation, when they probe each other's experience or lack of same. It can be via a conversation or during sex as done in the story "Bliss". It can be funny, angsty, awkward, fluffy, smutty - just as you please. I simply want to read a take on the situation, when they discover their vastly different backgrounds in this.

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief and rolled onto her side, snuggling close and pulling the blankets around them. The winter winds were howling despite the festivities inside of Winterfell, downstairs from where they lay in their bedchamber, and she felt safer curled up to the big man. Bran's wedding had brought more people to Winterfell than they had hosted in a good long while, and the crowd had been a bit much for Sansa. Her husband had quietly taken her from the feast and brought them up to their rooms and helped her relax.

"We've gotten good at this," Sandor said, kissing her forehead. His smirk made her giggle.

"Did you have doubts?" she asked.

"In you? No. In myself...a bit," he admitted.

"I find that hard to believe," she murmured, tracing the faint scar lines across his chest. "You weren't exactly known for your chastity in King's Landing."

He snorted. "S'pose not. But fucking whores and making love to wives are two different things. I had resigned myself to only ever experiencing the first, only taking my own pleasure and never giving back. Even if I wanted to, it would not have been expected and most likely unwelcome. This...what we do, it's still new to me, despite the fact that we've been at it for two years now."

"A good new or a bad new?" she asked.

He snorted again, this time in laughter. "What do you think? Good, of course. Great, even. Amazing. Wouldn't trade it for all the gold in the Iron Bank."

"I was worried, that first time," Sansa whispered. "Could you tell?"

"A bit. You were a maid, it was expected. Even with your time with Baelish."

"I do not wish to speak of him," she said, shivering a bit. "Not in our bed. Please."

His thumb was rubbing small circles on her skin from where he held her. "You're alright, little bird, you're alright."

She pushed away those memories of unwanted kisses and lecherous looks, and instead focused on the good memories from the Vale, memories of Mya and Myranda. "Randa told me much about how a husband and wife should be. Though I must confess, I did not understand what she meant some of the time."

"Oh?"

"Mmmhmm. Remember when I gave your manhood a little peck for the first time? And you looked at me like I was mad?"

He barked a laugh. "Never had that happen before! Of course I thought it was mad. Nor had I ever _heard_ of it happening."

"Randa had told me that men liked it when women kissed it. It wasn't until you put your mouth on me, and then showed me how to reciprocate that I realized what she meant." Sansa had been mortified when the realization hit her, but Sandor had been face deep between her legs at the time and had thankfully not noticed. She had started doing it as a precursor to putting her mouth on his manhood, and Sandor had come to enjoy the little gesture, but still...she blushed terribly at the memory.

"Huh...I had wondered... What else did she tell you that you misunderstood?"

"Oh, well..." She looked up at him, nervous under his amused gaze. "Remember when I jumped on your back?"

His good eyebrow went up. "I do."

"Randa told me that men liked it when a woman  _rides_ them. I thought she meant...that." Sansa giggled as Sandor roared with laughter. "Of course, I know better  _now._ So please stop laughing." It took a few minutes before he calmed down, though he was still chuckling softly. "And you?" she asked, wanting to redirect the conversation to him and  _away_ from her.

"Ah, that... You know the general story, a lot of time spent at brothels, mostly drinking but also with whores." She didn't like it, but she had long since accepted it. She was only slightly regretting bringing it up. "Never anything like what we have...it was just... It was just scratching an itch, and only half as satisfying. In this bed, with you," he kissed the side of her neck, his warm hand sliding across her rib cage, "It's nothing _but_ satisfaction. Even when it's just holding you as you sleep. Though, since my experience had only ever been about  _my_ pleasure, I did seek out instruction before our first night..."

"In...struc...tion?" she muttered. Her head was turning to mush under his kisses.

"No physical touching," he whispered, "I knew you wouldn’t like that, but...I wanted to...know how to...please you. I spoke with...the women at...the Wintertown brothel. They advised me...on what to do...but I was still unsure..."

Sansa pushed him back so that she could look him in the eye. Had she heard him correctly? He had wanted to make sure  _she_ was pleased? She had assumed he had _known_ all that already, but he hadn't and he had sought to fix his lack of knowledge. It was not the way of highborn men, and she was struck, not for the first time, that she had indeed been extremely lucky in her marriage to him. "Is that why you took your time on our wedding night? You were testing what you had been taught?" It had been sweet, and awkward, and hadn’t brought her to completion at first, but he had just kept trying and trying...

"Yes."

"Oh...Sandor..." She kissed him again and again, pushing him onto his back. She knew he felt he didn't deserve her, but sometimes, she wondered what she had done to deserve _him._


	24. Hot For Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asks: There are so many fanfictions out there in which Sandor is a teacher or kind of mentor for Sansa. But what if Sandor is a teenager and has the hots for the new teacher Sansa Stark? (He could even save her from bullies.

"Hey, did you hear? New teacher!"

"I heard it's a chick."

"Well, _I_ heard she's a knockout."

"I heard Petyr Baelish saying he's going to bang her."

"Ooooh! That hussy _better_ not even think of stealing my man!"

"Oh. My. God. Lysa, he doesn't even know you exist!"

"He does so! We are in _love._ He and I consummated our relationship in the science lab, just last week."

"Ew...you let him fuck you when the lab smelled of dissected frogs!?"

Sandor ignored his classmates, grateful he was sitting at the front of the class and couldn't see any of them. Who cared if the new teacher was hot or not? If she was any better than Mrs. Greyjoy, damn judgmental jerk, he would welcome her with an open mind. The door to the classroom opened. Sandor looked up and promptly forgot how to breathe. 

"Good morning, class!" she said cheerfully. Placing her things on the desk, she turned around and wrote her name on the board. Sandor swallowed hard as he stared at her luscious ass. _Shit, an ass as beautiful as that should be called a derrière,_ he thought. _With the accents and everything. Poems should be written about its perfection._

"My name is Ms. Stark, and for the remainder of the school year, I will be your literature teacher." She turned back around. "Are there any questions before we begin? Yes, you in the back."

"Can I have your number?" he heard Blount ask. Several other guys snickered. 

Ms. Stark smiled patiently. "I gave it to your mother when I visited her last night. Can you tell her I'll return her clothing next time I need a booty call?"

Even more students laughed at that, including Sandor. Ms. Stark went a little wide eyed when her gaze fell on him, a quick smile at him that made his heart heart jump, but she turned her attention back to Blount. "I apologize for that little joke. It was inappropriate, but so is asking for a teacher's number. I will be giving out an email address that you can contact me at outside of school hours. I ask that you keep the content school related. Now, if there are no other questions? Yes?"

"What happened to Mrs. Greyjoy?" Lysa asked. 

"She fell ill over the school break and her doctor told her to take a leave of absence immediately. Her husband has taken her to Oldtown for treatment. If she is cleared by summer, she will be returning to KLH, though you will hopefully be graduated by then. She did leave her lesson plans for me, so there will be no interruption to your class work. Oh, you have another question. Go ahead."

"Are you interested in Petyr Baelish?" Lysa asked harshly. 

Ms. Stark's eyebrows went up in confusion. "Petyr... Baelish? I'm sorry, I don't know who that is. Any other questions...? No? Ok, let's get started."

Sandor listened with rapt attention, sitting up straighter than he ever sat for Mrs. Greyjoy. Ms. Stark glanced over at him every so often, scanning the entire class, but his mouth went a little dry when her gaze landed on him. Never before had Shakespeare made so much sense. 

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate,_ he thought as she explained the meaning behind Snowball and Napoleon's relationship in Animal Farm. 

**********

"Let me go!"

Sandor turned to the cry. _It's coming from the back of the gym,_ he thought as he raced over there. He had been on his way home, taking a shortcut through the back of the school. He rounded the corner to see three of his classmates huddled around two figures. Boros Blount was sitting on top of someone who was struggling... Sandor leapt in, fists barreling towards his classmates. Meryn Trant went down in one. The two Kettleblacks took two punches each. Boros, on the other hand, he was saved for last. "At it again, Blount?" Sandor snarled, holding Boros against the wall in a painful grip around his throat. "Maybe I should just end you here, keep you from messing with anyone else..." The thought made Sandor smile. 

"No!" A hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Don't, he's not worth expulsion." He turned his head to see Ms. Stark, her hair mussed, her makeup smeared and her clothes torn. 

Sandor turned to Boros, relaxing his hold before shoving him against the wall. "Watch yourself, Blount. There won't be a soft hearted teacher to save you next time."

"There won't be a next time," Ms. Stark said softly. "Here comes the cavalry." She nodded her head in his direction, looking past him. He heard them coming and looked down at the exposed Ms. Stark. He shrugged off his button up flannel shirt, thankful that he always wore a cotton t-shirt under it, and covered her in it before any of the others saw her.

"Ms. Stark! Are you alright?" Ms. Mormont, the vice principal, asked. "Officers, arrest all of these boys."

"Hey, I didn't--"

"Clegane, should have known you'd be in the thick of this. Sansa, step away from him," Ms. Mormont said.

Ms. Stark stepped in front of him, holding the front of the borrowed flannel shirt tightly closed. "Lyanna, he _saved_ me from these boys. He does not need to be arrested."

"He still attacked other students--"

"Lyanna!"

"I'm sorry, but he will need to be punished. Those boys may not look like much, but they have connections to the Lannister and Baratheon families, and you _know_ how big a pain in the ass Councilman Baratheon can be."

He could see her shoulders tense. "I see. Then, detention."

Ms. Mormont raised her eyebrow, giving Ms. Stark the patented Mormont Bitch Face. "Detention?"

"Yes. Two months of it. Everyday. After school until five. That's two hours a day, ten hours a week, for eight weeks. Eighty hours of detention. Surely Joffrey will be satisfied with _that."_

Ms. Mormont frowned, but nodded. "Fine. Detention with you, for two months, two hours after school, every day. You're in charge of him."

"I understand. Thank you, Lyanna."

Ms. Mormont looked over at Sandor, somehow looking down on him though he towered over her, and snorted. "Good luck. You're going to need it." She turned and followed the officers dragging the other boys away, leaving Sandor alone with Ms. Stark.

 _Awkward..._ "So...detention. For real?"

She sighed. "'Fraid so. Sorry about that."

"S'alright. Better than getting arrested. So...what does detention with you consist of? Mr. Tyrell usually has me write lines. Mr. Baratheon, uh, Tommen, not Joffrey, has me go to the shelter and take care of kittens. Ms. Mormont has me run laps..."

Ms. Stark giggled. "Sounds about right. Well...for me, you will be doing your homework. And if you finish before the time is up, extra assignments, but they will count towards your grade. And since I've seen your grades, I know you kind of need it." She grinned at him. "I promise, it won't be that bad."

His heart skipped a beat. She was looking at him straight on, almost shyly. "Ok..."

She reached up and brushed his hair back from the bad side of his face. "You have very lovely eyes. You shouldn't hide them." A small, wonderful moment passed between then, and she smiled. "Come on. You have become my unofficial guard for the moment. If you would please walk me to my car, I would be forever in your debt."

"Yes, Ms. Stark," he said, gathering up both his and her things. "So does detention start tomorrow then?"

She grinned at him. "Yes. Tomorrow."

He could not wait for tomorrow.


	25. Little Sister - Sandor & Sister, SanSan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asks: I would love to see you write a fic set in canon verse where Sandor's sister is alive and is in Kings Landing with Sandor. And of course she interacts with Sansa and teases Sandor about his feelings for a certain "little bird" and maybe tries to play matchmaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems I forgot to post this one after posting it on Tumblr. My bad...

"Sandor..." Alayna started, using that "mother" tone she sometimes took on, despite being his _younger_ sister.

He looked over at her from his task of sharpening his sword. He was up earlier than usual, in order to get ready for the second day of the tournament. "What."

"Where were you? Last night."

"At the feast, same as you." He looked back down at the steel in his hands. Any sharper and it would slice through the very stone of the Keep.

"Until you weren't. Right after the king and queen started arguing about today's melee."

He could feel her eyes burning holes in the side of his skull. "The prince ordered me to take his betrothed back to her quarters. Her escort had drunk more than she could handle and had fallen asleep." He hadn't been much better, but at least he had been awake.

"You were with Lady Sansa then." Damn her, he could practically _hear_ the curling of her smile. Alayna had gotten it into her fool head that Lady Sansa Stark was the perfect wife for Sandor. Never mind the fact that she was of a higher station, betrothed to the king, _and_ younger than Alayna herself. Never mind the fact that, for some reason, he had found himself spilling his darkest secret to the little bird. And then threatened her life. _Very upstanding of you,_ he thought to himself with disgust.

"That is the name of the prince's betrothed, if I remember correctly." Satisfied with the job he had done, he sheathed his sword and strapped it to his waist. "You coming to today's events? Might get to see me kill Gregor."

"Hmph. I suppose I could stand to be there. Lady Arya did invite me to sit with them." Alayna watched him carefully. "If Gregor does die by your hand, it would be wise for me to be nearby."

**********

"I knew the Hound would win," Alayna heard Sansa say. Arya had not shown up, but Sansa had taken her hand and had her sit with her and her father. Sansa had explained that her friend, Jeyne Poole, was too traumatized from poor Ser Hugh's death the day before to attend the day's events, and Arya had dancing lessons, but would join them after.

"If only you had told me before," Lord Petyr Baelish lamented. Alayna rolled her eyes. "Who will win the next bout?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Alayna said slyly to him. She disliked Lord Baelish immensely, and hoped that whoever he bet on next would lose spectacularly.

"The Mountain, then," he said.

"I hope not," Sansa whispered to Alayna. "Ser Loras is like a hero in a song, don't you think?"

Alayna giggled. "I suppose so. Oh, they're about to start!" The two gasped and giggled together as Ser Loras easily defeated Alayna's eldest brother, but then Alayna was gasping again, this time in horror, as Gregor got up from the ground, the rage rolling off of him like water from a spring. She gripped Sansa's arm. "He's going to kill him..." 

Sansa and Alayna held hands as they watched helplessly, but then it was  _Sandor_ who stepped in, who saved the Knight of Flowers, and pride welled up in Alayna's breast. She felt pain in her arm, and looked down to see Sansa's hands curled tightly around hers, fear making her tense.

When it was over, and Ser Loras held aloft Sandor's arm, Alayna was both surprised and elated that Sansa was one of the first to jump up and applaud him. Sandor kept glancing at her, but gave the flower crown of Love and Beauty to Alayna.  _Small steps, big brother. Small steps._  

**********

"What do you think of my brother?" Alayna asked her as they walked arm in arm to the field where the archery tournament was being held.

"Ser Gregor is...a formidable man," Sansa said carefully.

Alayna laughed. "He is, but I meant my other brother, Sandor. What do you think of him?"

"Oh! Well...he... That is to say..." Sansa blushed as she stumbled with her words.  _What do I think of him?_ She felt confused. She wasn't scared of him, not anymore. She had been scared  _for_ him when he had jumped in between Ser Loras and Ser Gregor. "He is quite formidable as well."

"He's a lummox brain," Alayna said, laughing at Sansa's shock. "He's my brother, I can say that freely. He's also a bit...lost, if that makes sense."

"Oh...yes, I can see that," Sansa said softly, remembering the night before. 

"What he needs is a woman's influence. Someone who can help him see that the Lannisters are not people he should be serving." Alayna sounded thoughtful. "I don't count in this regard, since I am merely a sister. But you...you could be a good influence on him, in my humble opinion."

"Me?"

"Who else? You are on relatively good terms with him, are you not? Seeing as how you are the prince's betrothed and Sandor is the prince's sworn shield, you'll be around him a great deal of time, so it makes sense." 

"Well, I suppose..."

"My brother is a bit rough, but deep down, underneath all that bluster and snarling, he's still an ass, but also a good man. Somewhere. Very far, deep down, practically underneath his feet..." Sansa giggled at Alayna's cheekiness.

"I will try to be a good influence on him," Sansa promised, "but from what I can tell, the Hound is not one to bend away from the Lannisters easily."

**********

"My daughters..." Ned croaked, his throat dry from disuse. The eunuch handed him a skin of water, from which he drank eagerly.

"Are no longer in the Queen's grasp," Varys told him. "The younger one disappeared into the city, along with a bull and other orphans. The elder is being guarded by a fierce bitch. At the earliest opportunity, the bitch will run from here, taking your little red wolf with her. The Hound will protect them both."

"How..."

"Seems the Queen's grasp on his leash has slipped. He seems to have found a new master in your daughter."

Ned's laughter turned into a hacking couch. "Serves Cersei right. She took Sansa's wolf. Sansa will take her dog."

Varys gave a rare genuine laugh. "So it would seem. Your daughters are both in capable hands, my lord. And you have just become a valuable piece. Your son has called the banners, and the kingdom has been thrown into war. Killing you would be the next most disastrous action after telling the queen your plan." Ned scoffed at his words. "You are in pain, and have been for a time now, so I will assume that is why you did that. Nevertheless, what is done is done. You will be taken to trial, and you will be found guilty of treason, but you will held as a hostage of war. Do as I say, and you will live to see your family again."

Ned sighed. "I will do what you say."


	26. Slasher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asks: Sandor and Sansa are in the cast of a horror movie. Sandor is the killer and Sansa is one of the victims. The problem is Sandor can't bear even play acting that he is hurting or killing Sansa so he keeps on messing up the shoots. You could also make it that Sansa has a hard time acting like she is afraid of Sandor. They could already be a couple or just be major crushing on each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go back one chapter, that's the new one. X_x

"No..." she whispered as he raised the large machete up over his head. She backed away until she hit the wall. "Please... I didn't... I don't want to die..."

He was supposed to bring the machete down, to narrowly miss her head and get it stuck in the wall. He wasn't even really killing her. She was the hero of this story. The quintessential pure soul that would make it to the end of the movie and outlive him, the villain. So why couldn't he move his arm?

_"CUT!"_

An alarm bell sounded, and the camera stopped recording. Sandor lowered his arm, and offered his other hand to his co-star, Sansa Stark, to help her to her feet. "You ok, big guy?" she asked him softly as he pulled off his mask.

"Yeah...sorry, don't know why--"

"What the hell is your problem, Clegane!?" Cersei Lannister, the director, screamed. "You don't even have any lines! All you have to do is kill the little bitch! No offense, Stark."

Sansa rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "None taken."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why--"

"Well, _figure it out!_ For now... Everyone! Break for lunch!" Cersei shouted.

"But it's only ten in the morning..." someone said.

 _"Do I look like I give a fuck?? Break for second breakfast then!! AND SOMEONE GET ME A DAMN CROISSANT SANDWICH WITH EGG AND SAUSAGE._ Morons...I'm surrounded by morons..." Cersei stormed off.

"She's got low blood sugar," Sansa whispered to him. "That's why she's so short-tempered. And I think she skips regular breakfast most days." She took his arm and led him over to the catering table. "You tend to do the same. Let's grab some sandwiches and go talk, ok?"

They walked to the back of the filming location with their food, entering Sansa's trailer. It was a rather plush trailer, but no less than you'd expect for the daughter of the original scream queen Catelyn Tully and famed director Eddard "Ned" Stark. Her own talent as an actress was extraordinary, and Sandor knew she would eventually get roles in non-horror flicks. "I'm gonna get fired, aren't I?" he asked. Unlike Sansa, Sandor wasn't Hollywood royalty. The only reason he had been cast in the movie in the first place was because of his hulking size. So much of the movie had been shot, but since he wore a mask, it wouldn't be that hard to finish with another person in his place. It was only the last scene that was needed, the showdown between the villain and the heroine, and with some clever camera angles...it could be done.

"You're not going to be fired, not if we can sort this out. Now, why can't you 'kill' me?" She offered him a can of cold coffee.

"I... I don't know. Whenever you look up at me, so much fear in your eyes, I just freeze. And I know it's not real fear... not anymore... but..."

"When we first started, you didn't have a problem with it," Sansa said, munching on a chip. "Has anything changed since then?"

Sandor sighed. There _had_ been a change. A big change. A _huge_ change. He had gone and fallen in love with the little scream princess. Not that he could tell her that. She had let him kiss her, and there had been some heavy makeout sessions, and a lot of outings that were sometimes dates, and just a lot of fun, but he had only known her for less than five months. Saying he was in love with her, no matter how true, was a bit much.

"Is it because we fool around? I won't stop, if that's what you're concerned about..." She gave him a shy smile, a light blush spreading on her cheeks. "I... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to continue... after shooting wraps... maybe... as... an official couple? I know you're not comfortable yet being a public figure, but we can go slow... if you want." She set aside their sandwiches and sat on his lap, her arms around his neck, his around her waist. "I really like you, Sandor. And I think you really like me, too?"

He nodded.

Her smile grew wider. "Then... Would you like to be my boyfriend?"

He nodded again, struck dumb by her words. She giggled, amused by his reaction.

"Then..." A kiss. "You have to..." A second kiss. "Stab at me with your big..." Third kiss. "Long..." Forth kiss. "Knife." A very long fifth kiss. "And then...tonight..." She giggled. "Tonight, you can _stab_ me with your big, long _knife_."

He raised his eyebrows and she laughed.

"I promise, big guy. We'll go out for a nice dinner, a little bubbly, but not too much, then back to the hotel in the city, and we can stay in the room for as long as you want...do as much as we both want..." She kissed him.

"Really? I mean...I want to. I _really_ want to, but I wasn't expecting...you don't have to... we don't have to..."

Sansa laughed. "Oh, big guy. If you think I don't want to, you haven't been paying very close attention. It's not just anyone I let into my trailer, let alone allow to kiss me, to have so much of me. But if you're not ready," she teased, "Then, I'll wait. But I'm locking you in that room with me, even if it's just to have a cuddle, kissing, and movie marathon."

"Sounds like you have it all planned out," he said, smiling.

"You have a problem with that?" She raised her eyebrow, trying to look stern and not smile.

"Of course not. I look forward to it."

"But first..." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"First?" he asked.

"First..." Sansa leaned in until her nose was touching his. "First you have to 'kill' me..."

Sandor sighed a little melodramatically. "Always a catch with you."

**********

"No..." she whispered as he raised the large machete up over his head. She backed away until she hit the wall. "Please... I didn't... I don't want to die..."

His arm hesitated. _Shit..._

"Please! I... I have a boyfriend!" she exclaimed. "I'm supposed to meet him later... It's... I love him! Truly _love_ him." She got on her knees, bringing her hands together, begging him. "Please...spare me... for him..."

Sandor lowered his arm a bit, considering what she was saying. Love. And the only way to get to be with her...

"Please..." she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes.

He raised his arm up and brought it down, narrowly missing her head. She screamed and scrambled out of the way. He tugged at the machete, really selling the fact that it was stuck. Once she got to her mark, he pulled the machete free and took another swing at her head, again narrowly missing her, then taking off after her at a slower pace than his normal one. One of the kids he had "killed" earlier had gotten a shot in before being offed, and his character was limping due to the injury on his leg. Sandor saw her leap gracefully over the trap the kids had set up earlier, and he braced for the fall, landing roughly on the foam mats at the bottom of the hole. Later, another camera shot would show "his" broken body (really a dummy) impaled on crudely made spikes. The camera would shift to Sansa's character, looking down into the pit, show her looking relieved as she walked away. Credits roll. After all the acknowledgements were done, at the very end, another clip would be shown of the pit, as the camera panned over it, the body gone, and clear marks of someone having clawed their way out. The camera would pan some more, until it framed footprints, and then his shoes walking, before cutting to black.

**********

"Nice job, Clegane," Cersei said, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag. "Your leading lady finally get you laid then?"

He did a double take. "Uh..."

Cersei waved her hand, dismissing his lack of a response. "Hey, as long as it works, I don't care if you two are fucking or not. Might make for some interesting chemistry in the sequel, assuming this does well. And her ad libs weren't _terrible._ Might have to do some edits to make it work, but I have high hopes, honestly. As much as I rag on everyone, I have to admit everyone did admirably. Well, have some fun with that one, Clegane. You both earned it."

Sandor nodded dumbly as Cersei walked away and Sansa waved him over to the truck she had rented to haul her trailer, ready to head back to town.


	27. Baby Daddy, Pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Lalelilolu (sort of) and a continuation of [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9484619/chapters/21464054) and [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9484619/chapters/21464315).

“This is going to end in disaster,” Sandor told his wife, watching their son Silas trip over nothing at all. “I love the kid, but he's always two steps away from landing himself in a hospital room.”

“That is an exaggeration and you know it,” Sansa chided him. Mina was squirming in her mother's arms, reaching for Stranger.

"Yeah, but not much of one." Sandor kissed his daughter’s head, then Sansa, and then their six month old son’s head. Cole was napping on his blanket with their French bulldog, Lady, watching over him. It required Sandor to practically lay down on the floor himself, but he fully expected to get beaned by his eldest son in his nuts and he wanted to kiss all his other loved ones before that happened. He even went so far as to make the sign of the Seven over himself before beginning this doomed adventure in sports with his eldest child.

“Alright, pup, let’s go to the backyard." Silas looked up with him with a huge grin and followed him outside. Sandor set up the T-ball set Sansa's father had bought for Silas, and carefully placed the kid in front of it with the plastic bat. "Now, it's real easy. You take this bat and you swing it at the ball," he pointed to the two items. "Get it?"

"Got it, dadeeeeeee!"

"Good. Now…" Sandor knelt behind Silas, thought for a moment, then scooted a little further away, just to be safe. "Just keep your eye on the ball, and swing." Silas lowered his head in concentration. "Keep your eye on the ball…" His little head lowered further. Sandor frowned. Then Silas' head touched the ball on the stand. Sandor smacked his hand to his face. His son had taken him literally and he was trying hard to not laugh, but failing miserably. He pulled Silas to him into a hug. "Silly pup," he said affectionately, ruffling Silas' hair. "Let me show you what I mean."

"Ooooohhhh-kaaaaayyyyy," Silas said, smiling and handing the bat to Sandor.


End file.
